Further than Before: Series 1
by Bunnyapocalypse96
Summary: In a universe filled with countless indecipherable mysteries, none are as mysterious as the futures of two time travellers: the Doctor and Rose. With timelines ever shifting, what will happen to the dynamic duo's precarious fates when one small action results in disaster? Build-up to AU series rewrite.
1. Song of the TARDIS

_As the Universe takes its toll_

_And a Wolf howls for the final time_

_Somewhere, My Thief, shattered in soul,_

_Refuses to yield to the cruel knell's chime._

_And such is the power of this madman of mine_

_That he changes the laws that are_

_But what will become of fate and circumstance_

_When his Love is not lost to a burning star?_


	2. Episode 1 Part 1

**Author's note: Hey y'all! Aaaand here it is. FINALLY! Just an opening remark or two:**

**Every series (or season, for Americans) will contain five episodes. The first series is essentially going to be a setup for the very AU direction in which the story will be going from the end of series 1 and onwards. I'm a pretty responsive author, so feel free to pose any questions to me per review or PM as the story progresses. Eeek, this is going to be fun! :)**

**...**

**Episode 1: Shadow**

It was in the depths of an abandoned factory that Rose and the Doctor found themselves in that afternoon. Being that it was just outside of London, the plan was for a quick resolution of this quote "minor" problem after having been out to the Powell Estate to see Rose's mother.

The Doctor had set off in pursuit of the monstrous alien armed with only his unimposing sonic screwdriver and a rather dainty-looking pork chop, intending to, quoting directly once again, "draw him out".

Presently, Rose was rushing about in a slightly deranged manner, trying to successfully complete her part of the plan as well.

"Right," she muttered to herself as she hurried along, "got to find the tranquiliser and get back to the Doctor. Look for the steaming bucket, Rose, the steaming bucket."

The Doctor had, after a few attempts, successfully whipped up a bucket of tranquiliser intended to sedate the alien with some of the remaining chemicals left over from the vast factory's working days. Just before running off into the face of danger as he always did, the Doctor had tasked her with bringing the bucket in at the opportune moment: This being the moment that both he and the alien reached the hallway on the second floor of the factory.

Rose arrived on the ground floor of the building and allowed her head to swivel side to side frantically, searching in the nooks and crannies of the great, grey space for the place where the Doctor had prepared his chemical cocktail.

Finally, her eyes caught a flash of blue. Before questioning the sight any further, Rose ran towards the corner of the room containing the steaming, blue bucket.

She took a small moment to compose herself and dismissively brushed the hairs that had strayed into her eyes in her moment of panic away. Then she picked up the bucket in both her arms and made a run for it, hoping upon hope that everything was still going according to plan for the Doctor.

She ran up the narrow metal steps and, sounding a mighty battle cry, charged full-speed for the bulky shadow of the alien at the end of the hallway.

As she ran, Rose barely noticed almost bowling over the complete stranger standing in her path, nor did she realise that the Doctor happened to be standing right next to the alien. Not until it was too late, at least.

As the chemicals in the bucket got splashed all over the alien as well as the Doctor, she heard the latter give a disgruntled groan.

"That's the wrong one!" he shouted exasperatedly, "You've made it worse!"

"You said 'blue'!" she shouted back, distressed by the thought that she may have ruined the entire plan.

"I said 'not blue'!" the Doctor replied indignantly.

Before they could continue their shouting, however, Rose instantly grew aware that the now murderous alien had since set its sights on her. She gave a small whimper as the creature's grotesquely protruding teeth, flaring nostrils and fuming eyes reared towards her, before turning and speeding into the first room she could find.

"Hold on!" she heard the Doctor call after her.

Rose ran through the twist of factory rooms with the monster hot on her heels. She knew that, had it been a year or so ago, she would probably have been scared out of her mind right about now, but she had since grown immune to the fear that came with their adventures. With her and the Doctor on the case, how could she not have faith in the fact that they'd prevail?

As if on cue, she felt a hand grasping her own tightly.

"Must we always keep meeting like this?" the Doctor asked, throwing her a boyish grin.

"Oh well, you know how it is, so many monsters, so little time," Rose replied in a perfectly blasé tone, returning his smile.

The Doctor's smile vanished as he looked over his shoulder at the oncoming beast. "Don't fall behind," he told her seriously, "They may not be very large, but these creatures pack a punch. That's why we have to get it off this planet. Pretty soon it'll draw others of its kind here and then we'll have a very big problem on our hands."

Rose nodded with understanding. As they ran, the Doctor suddenly let go of her hand.

"Wha—?" she looked back distractedly, slowing her pace slightly in the process.

"Keep going!" the Doctor called, running in the opposite direction, "I'll just be a jiff, I promise!"

And then he was gone.

"Doctor!" Rose attempted to call after him once more.

_Oh, that man, _she thought with an eye roll.

She willed herself to run faster, taking into consideration that the alien had caught up to her considerably in her peripheral vision.

As she crossed the second floor hallway for the umpteenth time, she noted that the young stranger was still standing exactly where he had been, simply taking in the scene in front of him. For some reason, this annoyed her a little.

Rose breathed a sigh of relief when she crossed over into the next room and found the Doctor there waiting for her.

"See?" he said with a grin, "Slightly less than a jiff, I should say,"

"But why did y—" looking down at what the Doctor was holding, Rose's question was answered. It was a large, red bucket.

"So that's it, then? That's the tranquiliser?" she inquired.

"The one and only," he said, a glint in his eye. Something over her shoulder caught his attention. "And just in time, too."

Rose followed his gaze and watched as the alien stopped in its tracks and lifted its oblong head to the ceiling, its enormous nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Most likely detecting the chemicals that would lead to its sedation, the alien turned in its tracks and ran the other way.

"Do you mind if I do it? It's been chasing me for ages," Rose said.

She could see that there was a certain reluctance in his eyes, as well as something else, buried deep inside.

Was that— _fear_?

He quickly relented, though.

"Fine," he said, concealing the strange emotion with mock exasperation, "just be quick about it, eh?"

Rose nodded, quite pleased with herself. She started after the alien.

"Oh, Rose?" the Doctor called her back.

She turned around to see another brief flash of that look in his eyes as he opened his mouth to tell her something.

Then, clearly thinking better of it, he smiled a soft smile. "I'll be right behind you."

She returned the smile (if somewhat worriedly) and, once again, started after the alien.

All she had to do was run across the hall. When she found the creature, it had cornered itself in a small room.

For a moment, standing there in the doorway with nothing but a bucket of chemicals as her defence, staring down an alien whose teeth now seemed significantly larger than they had before, Rose suddenly felt very small and defenceless.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm right here," the Doctor murmured.

Rose nodded at the reassurance and took it as her cue to start inching toward the alien. She kept her eyes firmly trained on its eyes. Drawing near, it gave a menacing growl. She instinctively jumped back a few inches.

You are the Bad Wolf.

The random little thought drifted up into the forefront of her mind. More than even the Doctor's presence, this gave her the extra kick she needed.

"Time for bed," she said firmly, splashing the contents of the bucket over the alien.

The creature's reaction to this was unexpected.

She'd thought it would simply go to sleep, but it didn't. When the chemicals hit, the monster started growling loudly, curling up into itself until it could no longer stand. It sank onto the ground into a steaming, whining heap and then finally stopped making sound altogether.

For a hesitant minute, all Rose could do was stare wide-eyed at the creature. Had she killed it? Oh god, she hadn't wanted to kill it. Why would the Doctor even give her something that could do that?

She tentatively approached the alien, crouching down so as to make sure that it was still breathing. Its arm was blocking her view of its chest, so she resolved to reach out slowly and move the ligament.

And then suddenly, the thing had caught hold of her arm.

"Doctor!" Rose instinctively uttered the frightened shout.

When she looked to the doorway, however, the Doctor wasn't there.

More frightened than ever, Rose turned back to the monster, trying to pull her arm out of its grip. It was no use, and before she could even protest, the alien had started pulling her closer. Sooner rather than later, she found herself face-to-face with a pair of bloodshot eyes.

Rose gave a little gasp of horror while its teeth neared her face. As she gasped, the alien exhaled what looked like a small, black cloud.

"_Rose_!"

She heard his voice and the next thing she knew, she was propped up against the wall in the midst of a coughing fit.

"Rose."

The voice was closer now. She could feel hands on her shoulders. She squinted through the tears in her eyes and could just make out his face in close proximity to hers. There was anger in his eyes, but it wasn't aimed at her.

"Are you alright?"

As her blurry vision cleared and the coughing stopped, she realised that she was fine. The Doctor helped her to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," the Doctor said earnestly, "I got distracted by—" he started gesturing to the doorway before angrily shaking his head, "oh, it doesn't even matter! The point is that I shouldn't be leaving you alone. _Especially_ not after—" He trailed off, looking as though he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar (which wouldn't be the first time).

Rose arched an eyebrow. "After what, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked at her for a moment before seemingly ignoring the fact that she'd spoken completely. "Are you hurt?"

She gave herself a quick onceover and was again surprised and, quite frankly, a little bit impressed that she'd made it out in one piece.

"So, what do we do now, you know, about—" she waved a hand at the hunched-over creature on the floor.

"Load it up into the TARDIS, I suppose," he said, transferring his hands into his jacket pockets and frowning at the alien, "We should probably take it back to its home planet, maybe issue some kind of warning against others of its kind coming to Earth."

"Which planet is that, then?"

The Doctor looked up at her and grinned. "No idea."


	3. Episode 1 Part 2

With the creature nicely tucked away in a holding cell in the depths of the TARDIS, the Doctor retired to the console room, giving Rose some much needed time to shower and recuperate.

As he busied himself with the array of switches and buttons on the console that would lead to their next destination, he _most certainly_ didn't find his mind wandering the halls of the TARDIS to where Rose was partaking in her very naked activity.

Nope. It was all TARDIS mechanics for him. All stabilisers and time rotors and no running of hot water down firm, supple—

"So, after we head to Delta X-5 to drop Mister Grabby off, where to then?" Rose appeared in the doorway, clad in fresh clothes with her hair still slightly damp.

"Yes!?" the Doctor said in a rather high-pitched and overly cheery kind of tone, surprised out of his imaginings.

"What's gotten you so chirpy?" she asked him, walking up the ramp while eyeing him bemusedly.

"Nothing!" he said, his voice still a few octaves too high. He cleared his throat gruffly, "Nothing. Not—anything—" her bemusement was growing more pronounced by the second. It was decidedly time for a subject change, "You—you were saying about our next destination?"

At this Rose fixed him with a bright grin. "Oh, yeah. You got anything in mind, then?"

"Well," the Doctor answered, once again turning to fiddle with switches on the console (_not _because he was hiding the pinkish tinge to his features), "I was thinking I'd take you to see New York in the 1920's."

"New York in the 1920's," she repeated wistfully, perching on the captain's chair, "What's that like?"

"Oh, it's great," he said, looking up from the console, its blue light illuminating the inherent excitement on his face at the thought of new adventure, "You'll love it. It's all parties and music and dancing, all the time."

"Dancing?" Rose repeated with a smile, sitting up at the mention of the word.

"Oh, yes," the Doctor grinned, knowing that she would find this a particular point of interest, "Loads of it."

"And at these parties," Rose's eyes glinted playfully as she got up and approached the Doctor, "have you also been known to dance, Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged. "As a common courtesy from time to time," he said nonchalantly. Then, with a wry smile, "Some may have credited me as being the inventor of the Charleston, you know."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Well you'd better show me, then."

"Show you what?"

"Your moves!"

"My _what?_"

Rose laughed. "Well, if we're going to go dancing, I should see your moves first, shouldn't I? See what I'm working with and all."

The Doctor smiled, the ease of the conversation banishing all previous awkwardness. That was the brilliant thing about his and Rose's relationship; it moved like lightning.

"Well, if you insist," he said cavalierly, swiftly pulling Rose closer in a distinctly not-so-appropriate-between-best-friends gesture. It didn't matter, though. It was him and her and that made it strangely not strange.

"Oh, wait," he said with a frown, "We seem to be missing something."

He put his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and aiming it at the TARDIS console. A slow, jazzy melody hummed into being.

The Doctor put away the screwdriver, Rose giggling at his smoothness, and used his free hand to grasp hers tightly. They swayed together intimately until the melody started picking up speed. Then their laughter rang out as they twirled and dipped here and there and danced all around the console room in uncomplicated, momentary joy.

For one final move, the Doctor extended his arm so as to spin Rose inwards to him. As their arms extended, however, she let out a gasp of pain and immediately let go of his hand, crashing to the floor in the process, the almost magical illusion of happiness abruptly shattered.

The music stopped and the Doctor rushed to her aid.

"You alright?" he asked concernedly.

"Yeah, I just—" her eyelids fluttered and she seemed confused as she sat upright, "I don't know what happened. We were dancing and I just, sort of, fell over."

"It happens," he reassured her, trying to regain some sense of calm. He offered his hand to help her get up and she gladly accepted, but as the Doctor started pulling her upwards, Rose once again gave a little gasp of pain and fell right back down.

"Something's wrong," the Doctor said quietly. Some of that strange fear was seeping back into his gaze.

With difficulty, Rose managed to get herself into an upright, standing position. The Doctor watched with a pained expression on his face, but didn't try to help her any further.

"I don't know what's going on," Rose said, "I think there's something wrong with my arm. It keeps hurting."

"Let me see it," the Doctor instructed, his composure not holding nearly as well as his voice may convey.

She complied and he took her arm gently in his hands. He pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket and looked at it closely.

Then he turned it over.

"What's that?" Rose asked in a slightly shaky voice.

"It's bad," was all he responded with.

The veins in Rose's arm were bulging, but that wasn't the source of both her and the Doctor's concern. The tips of the veins in the ligament were pitch black.

"This is very, very bad," the Doctor reiterated.

He reached out tenderly to touch the veins. As he did, the blackness suddenly spread upwards with the bloodstream, causing her entire arm to blacken. The Doctor had no time to acknowledge this, however, because the moment he touched her, Rose's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she went completely limp. He had just enough time to catch her before her head hit the rough, metal grating.

He carried her back to the jump seat, setting her down gently.

"Rose?" he called, furiously stifling any hints of unease, "Can you hear me?"

No response.

"Rose?" he took her face in his one hand and used his other to grasp her left hand tightly, "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

Still unresponsive.

The Doctor felt the mounted adrenaline of panic threatening to make an appearance and willed it away. He would be useless to Rose if he didn't keep his focus right now. He lowered his hand from her face and found the carotid artery in her neck. Rose's pulse was beating rapidly.

Illness, not injury, he told himself. Not anything he'd seen before. Or maybe he had. He just couldn't remember at the moment.

He growled, pulling at his hair. He felt the TARDIS's inquiry for orders in his mind and shook his head at her.

Right. Not anything he'd seen before. Alien, obviously. Likely cause was Mister Grabby, as Rose had named it. He couldn't treat something if he didn't know what it was. Not with the med-bay being as under-stocked as it was. Damn 78th-century influenza victims he'd been convinced to treat last week. By Rose, who, consequently, was now dying because of her bloody charity.

He heaved a frustrated sigh and cast another glance towards his unconscious companion.

It was decided, then. The Doctor stood up and moved swiftly toward the console, setting course for New Earth.

"Don't worry, Rose, I'm going to—"

He stopped mid-sentence and listened. The TARDIS had gone deathly quiet.

Rose had stopped breathing.


	4. Episode 1 Part 3

"Help!" the Doctor shouted as he burst through the doors of the New New York hospital. Rose felt too still in his arms. He calculated that she had gone exactly five minutes without any oxygen so far.

He muttered a Gallifreyan curse under his breath. Time was running out.

"Doctor?"

When he heard the familiar voice, he knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Novice Hame," he breathed as he spotted the nurse, "Please, you have to help me."

She looked down at Rose and her eyes widened as she spotted the blackness of her arm.

"Get this girl into intensive," she told a passing nurse.

Seconds later, two men came up to the Doctor. They held out their arms towards him pointedly.

When he didn't respond to whatever request the men were asking of him, they moved in. They made to grab Rose from his arms.

He held fast, looking at them with indignation. "What do you think you're doing?!' he shouted at them.

How could they try to take her away now? Couldn't they see that she needed him?

"Doctor," he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He looked into Novice Hame's eyes. "It's alright," she reassured him, "They're going to help her."

The Doctor realised that he was being unreasonable. He was letting his emotions take over. He nodded mutely and handed Rose over, watching as they grabbed her limp body and placed it on a stretcher.

Then, the stretcher was moving. It was steadily moving further and further away. The Doctor moved after it, his eyes all the while on Rose's face that seemed to become more lifeless with each passing second. Before long, he was running to keep up.

The stretcher disappeared behind a door and the Doctor was just about to follow, when one of the men who had taken Rose from him blocked his way.

"I'm sorry, sir," he told him, "No one is allowed past this point."

Over the man's shoulder, the Doctor could still see Rose's face travelling down the hall. It bore a troubled expression even in her unconscious state. She was obviously in pain.

He pushed past the man who was standing in his way, not having a care in the world for what he had to say.

He ran after the stretcher, finally feeling as though he was actually catching up to it. He would stay with her, he thought to himself. He wouldn't let her be left alone in her current state. He'd never forgive himself if something were to go wrong. If something were to happen to her and he wasn't there—

He shook his head as he ran, banishing any such thoughts. She was still alive, and she was going to stay that way.

He was only a few paces away from catching up now. He could practically reach out his hand to hold hers. All he needed to do was—

Something caught a hold of his arm and he was slammed to an abrupt standstill. He watched in mute horror as the stretcher rolled away, turning a corner and taking Rose into the unknown without him; putting her at the mercy of complete strangers.

"I _told _you, sir," the man who had stopped him said, "No visitors are allowed back here."

The Doctor turned around, taking in all 2,5 meters of the large man before him. Without even realising what was happening, he felt his hand pull back and shoot forward, landing a blow right between the hulking man's wide-set eyes. The man stared at him with a dazed expression for a second, and then proceeded to topple over back first, landing in a heap at the Doctor's feet.

The Doctor looked at the passed-out man blankly. Had he just done that?

He felt another two pairs of hands on his shoulders. He was just about to protest as they started moving him into the opposite direction he wanted to go, when someone beat him to it.

"Stop," he heard her say.

The hands did stop, changing course and moving the Doctor down the hall towards the spot where Rose had disappeared. There, he recognised Novice Hame waiting for him.

"Let me see her," he pleaded with her, "she needs me."

The cat-nurse looked at him for a long moment. "Very well," she said finally, "They're trying to restore her breathing right now, so I'm going to tell them that you're a consulting physician on the matter. If you want them to believe that, however, you will have to convince them of your complete objectivity on the matter."

The Doctor nodded, breathing deeply. He could do that.

It turned out to be easier said than done, though.

When they entered the room, having been fully decked out in their anti-bacterial scrubs first, it was to find a scene of chaos waiting for them. All around them, at least twenty medical personnel were running around Rose's lifeless body.

They had changed her into a hospital gown that made her already chalky pallor seem even more so.

People were shouting at each other in a state of panic, and the Doctor saw, with a wave horror rolling through his stomach, exactly why.

The blackness in Rose's arm had moved to engulf her shoulder and was spreading up her neck quickly. Spots of blackness had blossomed on her other arm, too.

A machine beeped from some unidentifiable spot in the room and, along with it, all twenty medics' panicked screams rang out.

"She's waking up!" the Doctor caught someone's shout.

That's it, he thought fiercely. Attempting objectivity was over.

He lunged forward to where Rose lay, flinging doctors out of his way as he went. Finally, the sea of people cleared and he was standing next to her.

She was breathing again, but that wasn't much of a consolation. Her eyes had shot wide open and were now rolling in her head sightlessly. For a moment, they focused on the Doctor's face and her frantic gasps of breath sped up considerably.

"I'm here," the Doctor told her, briefly taking her hand. Her skin was ice cold.

He felt around on the table of medical supplies next to the stretcher until his fingers closed around a syringe. He then injected the dose of evolved morphine directly into the brachial artery in Rose's arm. She kept her eyes firmly trained on his until they fell shut once again.

Then, everything and everyone in the room went quiet. Not even the Doctor dared make a sound. The atmosphere in the room was thick with everyone's unanswered question.

What was going to happen next?

Suddenly, a sound rang out that made both the Doctor's hearts come to a complete standstill. The room was filled with it: the monotonous drone of the heart-rate monitor signalling that its subject's heart had stopped working.

It was like the chiming of a knell.

The frozen people only stood for a millisecond longer. When they thawed, it was to a scene of panic about ten times worse than before. Screaming instructions at the top of his lungs at the heart of the disorder, was the Doctor.

"Defibrillator. NOW!" he shouted at whoever was listening.

Somehow, two paddles came into being in his hands. Without hesitation, the Doctor placed the paddles on Rose's chest, sending her body convulsing as the electrical current was fired into her heart.

The Doctor's eyes flicked between her face and the screen of the heart-rate monitor.

Nothing.

He tried again, sending another bout of electricity into her. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying to whichever gods were listening that it would work this time.

Someone seemed to have heard him.

Through the room, steady beats rang out on the heart-rate monitor. The Doctor let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"Stabilised," he announced, slumping against the person standing nearest to him.


	5. Episode 1 Part 4

The Doctor was promptly herded into a waiting room after Rose's stabilisation.

As he went, he heard all sorts of apologies and excuses of why he couldn't stay with her. Tests had to be done, clothes had to be changed— etcetera, etcetera.

The Doctor didn't protest, knowing that if he tried to pull another stunt as he did earlier when he had knocked out the burly guard, he would just be pushing his luck. He consoled himself in the knowledge that, for the moment, Rose seemed to be out of the red as far as her immediate future was concerned.

Instead, the Doctor had resigned himself to staring at the large clock mounted on the wall of the boring, little waiting room.

Funny thing that, he thought to himself idly. No matter where in the universe one went, hospital waiting rooms always seemed to have a clock of some kind in the vicinity. He supposed it was a way to pass the time—pun intended.

After a carefully counted-out five hours, two minutes and forty-three seconds, the small door leading to the patients' quarters finally opened.

Novice Hame stepped out and the Doctor swiftly snapped back into crisis mode.

"What's wrong?" he asked concernedly, already moving past Novice Hame and towards the door, "Did something happen? Where's Rose?"

Novice Hame held up a hand to the Doctor's chest and stepped in front of him, forcing eye contact. There, she looked at him evenly. The Doctor had no doubt in his mind that the nurse could feel the elevated beat of his twin hearts through his chest.

She smiled softly. "She's awake," she told him.

The Doctor blew out a sigh of relief and smiled. It felt like his first smile in ages.

"She is?" he asked excitedly, again starting to move for the door, "Does that mean she's alright? Can I see her?"

Novice Hame stepped in front of him once more, her eyes now bearing a warning.

"She's still very weak," she told him solemnly, "We haven't found out all we want to about her disease, but as far as we can ascertain, the infection seems to spread whenever her heart rate picks up, so—"

"So she has to stay calm," the Doctor finished for her with a nod. He grinned, barely able to contain his excitement at being able to speak to Rose again, "I can see to that."

Novice Hame nodded and finally let him through. "First door on the left," she told him.

He didn't waste any time, practically moving towards the room at a sprint. When he entered the space, he noticed that it contained only one bed.

Novice Hame must have pulled some strings and gotten Rose a private room. Quite a feat in a hospital as high-end as this.

Rose was sitting upright in her small bed, propped up by at least a dozen pillows at her back. She was just shuffling a plate of unappetizing-looking food to the side when she spotted him in the doorway. The smile she gave the Doctor was so brilliant that she almost seemed healthy again.

"Hello," he said, giving her just as dazzling of a smile. He pulled up a chair and sat down right beside her bedside.

"Even in the future the hospital food's bad," she joked, nodding towards the uneaten meal.

"How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked her, eyeing the dark marks on her arms. They hadn't seemed to have spread any more, at least.

Rose followed his gaze and a small blush coloured her ghostly complexion. Trying to be inconspicuous, she pulled at her sleeves to cover the dark markings.

"Feeling a bit tired, but otherwise all's fine," she paused and a crease formed between her brows, "What happened, Doctor?"

"How much do you remember?"

She shook her head and her frown deepened. "It's all a blur, really. The last thing I remember was you and me talking in the TARDIS, and then we were dancing and then—" she looked at him and there was something unfathomable in her eyes, "How long was I gone?"

"What?" he asked confusedly.

"I dunno," she said quietly, "It was as though I was shifting between two worlds. In one, everything would be too quiet. In the next, everything would be too loud. Finally," she closed her eyes, "Finally all there was, was me. And I kept thinking about Mum and—and Mickey and Shareen and—"she looked into his eyes briefly before dropping her gaze again, "And then I woke up.

Her face seemed pained. "I'm not a big thinker on those things or anything, but that's how I always imagined death would feel like. So, how long was I gone?"

The Doctor looked over at her heart rate monitor before speaking. Her pulse was perfectly normal. He felt a small bout of awe at her being able to stare death in the eye with such calm. He'd never thought anybody would be able to do that.

But then again, he reminded himself, Rose Tyler was no anybody.

"Two minutes," he told her softly, "You were gone for two minutes."

She nodded, bulging her cheeks and blowing the air out in a long sigh. They both sat in silence for a while, thinking on just how close she'd come to—well.

Finally Rose looked up at him again, a rueful smile playing on her lips. "I suppose this takes New York out of the equation, then."

The Doctor smiled back sadly, feeling his hearts clench just a little. "Let's postpone the trip until you're out of hospital," he said. Then, in an attempt to lighten the sombre mood, "I don't think you'd want to go to a fancy party dressed like that, anyhow."

Rose groaned and then laughed, the sound of it already bringing some normalcy to the situation. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem. Can you imagine? Meeting the Fitzgeralds, and all the time there's me in a backless hospital gown! "

The Doctor grinned. "Knowing you, you'd probably manage to turn it into a fashion trend," he told her. He put up his hands in a grand gesture, "Rose Tyler, daring fashionista and risk-taker! You'd be the toast of the town, I reckon."

They were both laughing by the time Novice Hame entered. She smiled at the two of them as she gathered up Rose's still-completely-there lunch and handed the plate to a nurse who had followed her.

She then proceeded to roll up the sleeves of Rose's gown and to check her arms. The Doctor moved over to Novice Hame's side, taking out his glasses from his jacket pocket and putting them on to examine Rose's marks more closely.

When the Doctor and Novice Hame were done examining, they turned to each other with surprise evident on their faces.

"What?" Rose asked, looking between the two of them, "What is it?"

The Doctor met her eyes with an elated grin.

"Don't count New York out just yet," he told her, "The marks are disappearing."


	6. Episode 1 Part 5

On the third day of her hospital stay, Rose was finally allowed to get out of bed.

"So, I can move around now, yeah?" she asked Novice Hame excitedly, "Like, out of the room? I can go exploring?"

"Conditionally," Novice Hame reprieved, "Only if you promise me that you'll sit down immediately when you start to feel tired. And you need a chaperone with you at all times, of course. Just in case—"

"That'll be me," the Doctor volunteered, missing the warning look Rose shot the nurse before she spoke any further. He grinned, "Chaperone extraordinaire."

In the three days of their stay in the New New York hospital, the Doctor had only ever left Rose's side when the nurses came to change her gown in the mornings. The hospital personnel had even arranged a bed for him so he wouldn't have to sleep in the plastic chair at Rose's bedside. He never used it, though.

"You sure?" Rose asked him worriedly.

Not for the first time, she eyed the dark shadows beneath his eyes. For all the boasting the Time Lord did about not needing sleep, she could see that the events of the past few days were taking their toll on him.

"I could always just have Novice Hame take me for a quick walk," she suggested, "That way maybe you could get some sleep."

"Now, Rose Tyler," he chided her with feigned anger, "Are you trying to give me the slip?"

"'Course not," she answered with a fond smile, "What fun would exploring be if I couldn't do it with you?"

For a moment, the two just smiled at each other mutely, staring into each other's eyes. They had all but forgotten that another person was in their presence when Novice Hame cleared her throat awkwardly. They looked up from their staring match, both turning a pleasant shade of pink.

"Do you need any help getting out of bed?" she asked Rose.

Rose frowned at her, ready to decline and prove that she still had some strength left in her, thank you very much, but the Doctor was already babbling away.

"I can do that," he answered, getting up from his quickly-becoming-regular spot on the chair beside Rose's bed, offering her both of his hands. "Did I ever tell you about the time I lost the feeling in my left foot and it didn't come for _three days_? Now _that_ was a situation where being able to stand on my own two feet would have come in handy, let me tell you. The natives didn't have feet, you see, so even just the one gave me quite the advantage, but _two_—"

Rose swatted at his outstretched hands good-naturedly. "No, that's fine," she told him, 'I want to do it."

She manoeuvred her hands to her sides and started pushing herself up off the bed. Despite her protests, the Doctor stayed close all the while, his hands held at the ready in case Rose couldn't keep her balance.

As she moved, the Doctor took a quick glance at the marks on her arms. She tended to hide the marks from him whenever he tried to check, so he usually seized the opportunities to do so when she wasn't looking.

The marks had moved down her arms considerably and now only coloured the veins in her forearms. As always, he was pleased with the sight. It seemed that she really would be alright.

He had to stop worrying so much…

By this time, Rose was already on her feet. Novice Hame was helping her into a bathrobe so she could walk around with her dignity still intact. She looked at the Doctor with a pleased expression on her face when the robe was on.

"Look," she told him cheerily, "I'm not an invalid anymore."

Comically, she lost her balance right at that moment. The Doctor had to move in a flash to catch her before she hit the ground. He held her by the waist as Rose pouted.

"Lousy legs," she muttered.

When he was sure that she was standing stably, the Doctor let go of her. He held an arm out for her to support herself on. She took it gratefully.

"So," he gave her a grin, "Shall we go take a look around?"

"Maybe we'll find a little shop," she joked, causing the Doctor's grin to widen considerably.

They left the room and started down the long hospital corridor. Rose glanced excitedly at scenes from the open doorways that they passed.

In one, a mother was showing off her new baby to her husband and their kids. In another, an old couple were saying their goodbyes.

All around them, Rose realised, time was passing by. So many people, so many moments. Even this far into the future, there was no looking past it; the clock ticked on, even though you couldn't feel it. There was no escape from it.

There never would be.

"Hey," the Doctor said softly, giving Rose a nudge, "You alright?"

She had gone all misty.

Rose took a deep breath and threw her eyes up to the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Not now, she thought. Not while she was still under his scrutiny. She'd held herself together so well up until now…

After a few moments in which she forced herself to school her features, she met the Doctor's troubled gaze. She gave him a small smile that didn't quite touch her eyes.

"Yeah," she said. She gave a slightly wet chuckle, "just having a moment."

The Doctor looked at her with concern. "Do you want to go back to the room?"

"Nah," she said. Her voice was subdued as she rubbed at her eyes. God, his concern was just making matters worse for her. "Do you mind if I have a little moment alone?"

The change in her demeanour had thrown the Doctor completely for a loop.

The worry became even more evident in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be chaperoning you…" he told her uncertainly. He didn't understand where her emotions were coming from, and it scared him. What scared him even more was the fact that she didn't seem to want to talk to him about it.

The Doctor sat her down on an empty bench in the corridor. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds, hands in pockets, both knowing that he had to give her a moment alone and not wanting to leave her on her own.

"Rose—" he said, torn.

"Please," she said quietly, "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be here when you get back, I promise.

Finally, tight-lipped, the Doctor simply nodded. As he turned on his heel and started walking away from her, even though he knew that he would only be leaving her for a few minutes, everything inside of him screamed that he had to stay with her.

If he didn't—

He cut off the thought immediately. She was fine. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so much.

The thoughts were starting to turn into a mantra for him, it seemed.

The Doctor decided to take a walk to the massive hospital foyer where he had arrived with Rose both this trip and the previous one. As he entered, he caught sight of a group of intern-doctors being herded into a disinfectant-spraying elevator. As far as he could make out, the whole group seemed to consist of New Humans.

Despite the turmoil that was his emotional state, he smiled proudly. He helped create those people.

When he thought that an appropriate amount of time had elapsed—five minutes, to be precise—the Doctor headed back to where he'd left Rose.

She was fine, he told himself all the way. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so—

The hallway seat was empty.

The Doctor went ice cold. Instantly, his two hearts began beating at rapid, ragged rhythms. His eyes darted around frantically as he searched for his lost companion. Horrible scenarios of what might have happened to Rose kept repeating over and over in his mind, sending the Doctor's fear over the edge.

"Rose?!" he called helplessly, "Rose!"

"In here, Doctor!" came her voice from a room to his right.

The Doctor abruptly realised that he was being completely silly. Rose was in a hospital, not some dangerous, alien battleground. Nothing was going to happen to her here.

He also, however, had been told that he would find Rose exactly where he'd left her. Obviously, that promise had not been kept.

Amongst the disorder of all the complicated emotions running through him, his body grabbed for the nearest one.

It just happened to be anger.

"Rose!" he said furiously as he neared the room.

How could she do that to him? Wandering off after she'd _specifically_ said that she wouldn't! He thought she knew better. Honestly, after all they had been through, he trusted her to know better. Especially after—

He was stopped short.

Rose sat on the floor in a large, colourful room. All around her, there were small children of all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds. The kids were sitting, quiet as mice, while Rose read them a story from a large book. As she turned the pages, large holograms floated from the book, representing what she was telling them about.

"And then Drina, Thom and little Gerelda saw the big giant come closer!" she said animatedly. All the children gasped in response to this.

She turned her gaze to the doorway and gave the Doctor a brilliant smile.

He smiled right back, all of his anger at her completely forgotten. He made his way to where Rose was seated and sat himself down beside her.

A little girl raised her hand just as Rose was about to continue the story. Rose looked up from the book and smiled at her. "Yes?" she asked.

"Who's that?" the girl asked, pointing to the Doctor.

Rose laughed and set the book down. "This is my friend," she said, "He's called the Doctor."

"Hello!" the Doctor added cheerily.

The storybook being old news, all the children directed their attentions to the new guest to the children's ward. The Doctor smiled at their wide-eyed expressions.

"Is he your boyfriend?" one of the little boys piped up. The child wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Do you, like, kiss each other and stuff?"

"No!" the Doctor and Rose answered simultaneously. Their eyes met for a moment, before both looked away red-faced. The attending nurses in the background giggled at the two of them.

"But you _are_ boyfriend and girlfriend!" another child insisted, "I saw you holding hands the other evening when Novice Hame took me to the loo."

"What?" even Rose was surprised by this. She looked at the Doctor questioningly, noticing that he was looking oddly sheepish while he rubbed away at the back of his neck.

"Um," he cleared his throat, continuing in a low voice only meant for her, "Yeah, I might've taken to holding your hand while you sleep at night."

Before even allowing Rose to have any sort of emotional reaction to this statement, however, the Doctor was addressing the children again.

"Rose was very ill," he explained to them, "At one point, she was so ill that I thought I was going to lose her. When things like that happen, you're reminded of how much you'll miss a person when they're gone and you hold on to them as tightly as you can. I was holding Rose's hand, because I realised that any moment may be my last chance to do it."

The children were silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating the Doctor's words.

Rose was also silent. She stared at the Doctor, feeling both warmed and chilled to the bone at how much her condition had affected him. It scared her to no end to think of what would happen when—

"Do you love her?" the first little girl asked.

And the question dropped like an anvil.

Suddenly, the mounted expectation in the air felt like some kind of choke-hold. Rose refused to look anywhere but the brightly coloured carpet, knowing that any other point would only serve to elevate the awkwardness of the situation.

"Rose?" Novice Hame appeared at the door.

Rose looked up at the cat-nurse as if she was a godsend. "Yes?" she asked. She flinched at the desperation that was so clear in her voice. She felt the Doctor shift beside her, but she most certainly wasn't capable of allowing her eyes to dwell anywhere near there.

"It's time for your afternoon examination," Novice Hame said.

"Right," Rose breathed out a sigh of relief, "Right. Yes. Good."

The Doctor helped her up and they headed back to the room. Neither spoke of the little girl's question again.


	7. Episode 1 Part 6

The Doctor stood outside the door to Rose's room dejectedly. He hated the fact that Rose didn't want him there when the nurses were doing their tests on her. He didn't understand it; Rose had been in hospital for a full week by now and in that time he'd certainly seen his companion go through worse.

Even when he was finally allowed back inside, though, Rose would only give him the bare minimum on what the findings of the tests were for that day.

"Everything's fine," she would say with a smile, "the marks are fading more every day."

The Doctor had found this lack of information disquieting on day three already. After having spoken to Rose and coming up blank as far as specifics on her health were concerned, he immediately moved on to interrogating Novice Hame.

She had been apologetically coy, citing doctor-patient confidentiality.

Rose simply didn't want him to know the details of what was happening to her. There was probably no conspiracy behind it all; she just didn't want him to worry about her. Ironically, this fact made him worry about her all the more.

What wasn't she telling him?

The Doctor caught himself in these thoughts once more. She was fine. She was going to be healthy in a few days time. He had to stop worrying so much. As he had been doing for the duration of their stay in the hospital, the Doctor repeated the soothing thoughts over and over in his mind. It was all he could do to stay sane during the wait for the day's round of tests to be over.

He tried to listen to what the murmuring voices were saying on the other side of the door, though he knew from past experience that this would be to no avail. All he could do was wait out the agonising period of time.

Finally, thankfully, the door to Rose's room opened. Several nurses that had been aiding in the tests scuttled, but Novice Hame remained. She had taken to being Rose's personal caretaker, it seemed. "You can go inside in a moment," she said. There was some sort of excitement in her eyes.

The Doctor was wary towards the emotion on the cat-nurse's face. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

The nurse grinned. "There's a little surprise for you waiting in there."

The Doctor's curiosity was now truly piqued. "What?" he asked again, craning his neck to see past Novice Hame and into Rose's room, "What is it?"

"Alright," Rose's voice came from the room, "Send him in."

Novice Hame stepped aside and the Doctor entered.

Rose was standing beside her bed with a massive smile plastered on her face. She wasn't wearing her hospital gown anymore. Only now did the Doctor come to realise how used he had gotten to seeing her in the outfit. She had swapped the unflattering clothes out for her usual denim and t-shirt combo and her hair was neatly brushed and shiny once again. It was one of the best sights the Doctor had seen in a long time.

He looked back at Novice Hame confusedly. "She can't possibly have been discharged already?"

The hope was ridiculously clear in his voice, but it was coloured with a fair amount of consternation. He had checked her arms that morning when he was sure Rose wasn't looking, and though the marks only looked like faded bruises by this time, they were by no means completely gone.

"I wish," Rose said. Her eyes widened and she addressed Novice Hame, "Not because I don't like you lot or anything!" she reprised.

The Doctor couldn't help but give a little smirk at this; Rose Tyler, people pleaser.

"Rose's tests showcased some good results today," Novice Hame said, "We told her that if she felt up to it, she could take a walk outside. But, of course—"

"Conditionally, as always," Rose completed the nurse's sentence, "I have to have someone with me the entire time, I have to sit down when I'm tired—blah, blah, blah. So, do you want to go?" she said the last sentence with so much enthusiasm that the Doctor could have sworn she'd turned into a five-year-old in a sweetshop.

The Doctor smiled and walked over to take her hand. "Rose Tyler," he said, "I'd follow you anywhere."

She laughed and they headed out of the door immediately. Watching them pass, one of the nurses who had remained to check Rose's monitors moved to Novice Hame's side.

"Are you sure those two aren't a couple?" she asked.

"Oh, they are," Novice Hame said with a smile, "They just don't know it."

…

"Alright," Rose said, anticipation filling her eyes, "on the count of three."

"One," the Doctor started.

"Two," she continued.

"Three!" they cried simultaneously as they took their first steps onto the applegrass.

Rose laughed, turning her face towards the sky and breathing deeply. The Doctor looked at her with a big grin on his face; he had missed the way her hair glinted in the sunlight.

She turned to face him and returned his grin. Then she grabbed his hand tightly. "Run," she told him.

And they did.

They ran as fast as they could up the hill facing the hospital. The scent of the applegrass mingled with the scent of the sea air made for an aroma that was both intoxicating and refreshing.

As they reached the spot at the very top of the hill, the spot where the view of New New York was at its absolute most picturesque, they both fell down on the grass, somehow laughing and gasping for breath at the same time.

"Oh, that was a bad idea!" Rose said in-between the gasping and the giggling.

"And for a change it wasn't mine," the Doctor joked.

He came upright faster than Rose, obviously more accustomed to the running than she was in her state. He helped her into a sitting position. They just sat there like that for a while; shoulder to shoulder, looking at the view of the city.

Rose allowed her eyes to slide to his face inconspicuously. She looked at his profile in the light and the way his hair blew in the breeze. It was only in direct sunlight that you could see the small freckles that dotted his nose. Rose liked to give him grief about the freckles from time to time, but secretly she loved them.

Sobering, she turned her gaze back to the city, watching the hover-cars whizzing about in the sky.

"Remember when you took me to that planet—what was it called— Volatilla? The one with the flying manta rays."

The Doctor looked at her, but she didn't look back. Her eyes were fixed on a non-descript point of sky.

"Yes?" he asked, recalling the memory. He found it strange that she would bring up that specific trip, seeing as they never talked about it.

"Remember what we talked about that day?" Rose continued.

The Doctor frowned. They especially never talked about _that_ part of the trip. He remembered it well, though; it had been one of the small moments of weakness he had had with Rose. He'd known that he shouldn't ask her the question, but at the time, he just couldn't help himself.

"I asked you how long you were going to stay with me," he said with a nod. The direction this conversation was heading was causing small pins and needles to prick in his hands.

"And I said that I would stay with you forever," Rose said the words that he had been thinking. She still wasn't meeting his gaze.

"You did," the Doctor agreed.

Rose finally looked at him. There was an indiscernible look in her eyes. It was equal amounts intensity, sadness—and fear.

"Mind if I make a small adjustment to that promise?" she asked.

The Doctor stared at her for a minute before finding his voice. He wasn't used to her being as up-front about these things as she was being. "Go ahead," he told her.

"I know that my definition of forever and your definition aren't the same," she started.

The Doctor was already shaking his head. "Rose—"

"Please let me finish, Doctor," she told him seriously.

The Doctor stopped talking, immediately clamping his mouth shut and gesturing for her to continue. He had no idea where this conversation was going, but it seemed that it was certainly going somewhere.

"I know that my definition of forever and yours are two very different things," she started again, "and I know that forever for me isn't really a very long time in your eyes," she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap, "The point that I'm trying to make, Doctor, is that I think you and I both realised on this trip that I'm not always going to be there. However many times we travel to the future or the past, however out of sync with time I may be, I'll never be free from it. Not like you are."

The Doctor didn't say anything. His face was completely blank. Rose's words were like echoes of his own darkest thoughts that he had had. At least he had the power to repress those thoughts, though. To hear Rose saying the words out loud—well, he'd settle for saying that it was heartbreaking and leave it at that.

"So," Rose said after a pause, "I'm going to change my promise. I won't be able to stay with you forever, but I'll stay with you for as long as I possibly can."

She paused again. "For as long as I live."

Her last words hung in the air.

Hearing her say that sentence, make that vow, the Doctor felt his hearts fill up with both joy and terror.

Generally, he tried to avoid the idea of losing Rose as much as possible, and here she was bringing the scenario up herself. The Doctor had always been content with living in blissful ignorance of the fact that Rose wouldn't be able to stay with him for as long as she had initially promised.

He found that the problem with all people was that, while they were all so brilliantly human, they were also so painfully mortal. And he would have been fine with this problem, honestly. He would have accepted this flaw and moved on with his life—

Had Rose not been one of them…

It seemed that she was finished with her speech.

The Doctor looked at her with a frown on his face. "Where's all this coming from?" he asked her quietly, "Why are you telling me these things now?"

Rose smiled and spread her arms out grandly in front of her, including the hill and the entire city in her gesture. "It's a pretty special spot, this," she told him, looking around her fondly. She turned the fond gaze to him and smiled that tongue-touched smile that he loved so much, "Guess I was just feeling sentimental."

He looked at her arms and noticed that she was shivering. "You cold?" he asked, already shrugging out of his coat. He placed it over Rose's shoulders.

"Thanks," she told him, pulling the coat around her.

"Let's go back inside," the Doctor suggested.

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea," Rose said a little sadly. Then she chuckled, "before this cold wind turns out to be the death of me!"


	8. Episode 1 Part 7

When Rose opened her eyes, she realised that she shouldn't be awake yet.

Seeing as the futuristic hospital clock mounted on the wall was a bit past her pay-grade to read, she had no idea what time it was supposed to be. Judging from the quiet nature of the hallway outside her door, though, it was safe to say that it was either too late or too early for her to be up.

A grunt startled her. When she looked for the source of it, however, the startled look on her face turned to one of warmth and affection.

A puff of dark, spiky hair resting at her side was all she could make out in the darkness. Despite this she could still feel the familiar, comforting grip of a hand grasping hers. She smiled, looking down at the Doctor's shadowy form half-slumped in the chair facing her bed and half-draped over the side of her mattress.

After a moment of just staring at his resting body, her adjusting eyes started to dimly make out his features.

This caused her to warm even more. In sleep, something he'd _finally _allowed himself after more than nine days of being vigil, the Doctor seemed younger and more vulnerable than Rose had ever seen him. The look on his face spurred her to reach out a tentative hand, the one that wasn't in his grasp, towards him, stroking a piece of spiky fringe from his face and then allowing her fingers to trail through other strands softly.

When he shifted slightly and murmured something unintelligible, she briefly stopped her ministrations. Then he relaxed again and hummed contentedly, letting Rose know that he was still fast asleep.

"Doctor?" she inquired quietly, despite her reassurances.

He didn't reply.

She nodded to herself, satisfied that she hadn't woken him.

For a very long time, she just allowed her fingers to brush, twirl and linger in his hair as she let her mind wander to faraway places, sights and sounds that she had yet to discover. To adventures not yet had and monsters not yet fought…

Her mind raced, and she only realised that she'd happened upon thoughts not worth visiting when the pain in her heart notified her of this fact. She blanked her mind after that, refusing to cry, refusing to break down. Even if it was here, in the dark, effectively on her own, she wouldn't allow herself to do it. Not when she didn't know how to pick up the pieces afterwards if she did.

And so, to distract herself, she decided to do what she had done so well these past few days to rein in the pain.

She decided to tell a story.

"You know, one of the kids brought this book to me today to read to them. It was filled with old fables and things," she looked at him, checking to see if he was still sleeping, which he was, "And I saw this one fable—didn't read it to the kids, 'cause I don't think they would've really understood it, but it kind of stuck with me, you know?"

The Doctor murmured something sounding suspiciously like her name, and Rose felt her heart beat a little faster in her chest as a result of it. She shook her head at herself, marvelling at how the Doctor had the almost supernatural ability of making her feel like a blushing schoolgirl even when he was dead asleep.

"Anyway," she continued, "The fable's about this bloke standing on a street corner, right, and he's waving his heart about showing everybody how beautiful and perfect it is, and there's this huge crowd who's just standing there and admiring it. But then, an older man steps forward and tells the bloke that he's got a beautiful heart too, and he takes it out to show everyone, only it's all scarred with chunks and gouges taken out of it. So, the crowd start to laugh and the younger man tells him that his heart really isn't 'cause it's got all sorts of welts and things in it."

She paused. "The old man tells him that his heart's beautiful _because _of that. And of course, now the younger bloke's really confused, 'cause how's it possible that this man could be _proud_ of all the scars and rough edges on his old heart? Then, the old man starts to explain that every scar represents a person who he's given his love to. He tells the bloke that when he gives his love to a person, they sometimes give a piece of theirs back to him, and that's why some of the edges of his heart are all jagged, because it's not a perfect fit. And sometimes, he would give his love to people but they wouldn't return it, leaving open scars on his heart that never truly heal, but would always remind him of the sacrifices he'd made for them."

Rose stopped, looking at the Doctor's face that seemed so young, yet which she knew had faced so much, done so much that had hurt him. Despite herself, a few tears escaped her eyes. She ignored them adamantly.

"And finally, the younger man understands. He comes forwards, tears in his eyes. He reaches into his own, perfect heart, takes out a piece and offers it to the old man. The old man accepts, takes out a piece to give back to the bloke before hugging him. Then they both just walk away, side by side, and the story ends."

She was silent for a moment.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, just know, Doctor: You'll always have a piece of my heart."


	9. Episode 1 Part 8

**Author's note: You can find the link for Rose's dress on my profile :)**

**...**

On day ten, the news that the Doctor had been waiting for finally came.

Rose came to fetch him in the hallway after her tests that day. As she exited, her eyes were momentarily troubled, but then she spotted the Doctor and she became all cheer.

"Guess what," she told him, leaning against the wall next to him.

The Doctor grinned. "What?" he asked her, already knowing the answer. He'd seen it himself earlier that morning when he'd checked, after all.

"I'm clean," she told him with smile, "The marks are completely gone! They said that they're going to keep me under observation for the afternoon just to make sure and then I'll finally get to leave!"

Even though he had known all along what the news would be, he couldn't contain his joy at hearing it being said once again. He let out a cheer and grabbed Rose in a hug, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around a few times.

She was fine. She was healthy. There was no reason for him to worry anymore.

"So, Mister," she gave him a playful poke against the shoulder once he'd set her down, "Are we going to go out and celebrate?"

"Have you been in this hospital so long that you've forgotten that we live in a ship that can go anywhere in time and space?" the Doctor said in mock-outrage, "Of course we're going to go out and celebrate! How does 1920's New York sound to you now?"

"Brilliant," Rose said half-heartedly, "But I was thinking we'd aim for somewhere a little bit closer to the hospital. How about a party in New New York? We never actually got to go to one the first time around."

"Hey!" the Doctor said indignantly, "I took you to a party eventually!"

"If you count dropping Cassandra off to die in her own arms as a party, then yeah," Rose muttered.

"Fine," the Doctor conceded, unable to keep the grin off his face for too long, "I'll see to it that you get the finest New New York party that—" he rummaged in his coat pockets for a second, eventually pulling out a handful of various odds and ends, "two nails, a sonic refractor and a jelly baby can buy!" He popped the jelly baby in his mouth with a smile.

Rose wrinkled her nose. "How long has that been in there?"

The Doctor pulled a face as he realised that putting the sweet in his mouth might have been a bad idea. "A century, give or take," he took the jelly baby out of his mouth and threw it over his shoulder, "Maybe a century and a half."

"Well," Rose said with a sad smile, "If we're leaving tonight, I'd better go and say some goodbyes. They'll have to find a new storyteller for the kids now, I suppose."

Ever since that first day that she went to the children's ward, Rose had gone to read them stories every afternoon. Those kids were going to be heartbroken when she left. They had really grown fond of her. They weren't the only ones, either. As so many of the nurses and doctors had been involved in Rose's recovery, she had become something of a celebrity in the hospital.

Rose started down the hallway, only to stop and look over her shoulder curiously when she realised that the Doctor wasn't following her.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked him.

The Doctor was trying not to smile. He had just gotten a clever idea. No—it was a _brilliant _idea. He looked at Rose and realised that she was waiting for an answer.

"You go ahead," he told her, barely able to contain his excitement, "I have some last-minute arrangements to make."

Rose frowned at him, but decided not to pry. She had learned a long time ago that there was no use in trying to understand the Doctor when he was in one of his moods.

"Alright, then," she said with a shrug, setting off without him.

The kids all gathered by her feet in a tangle when she entered the children's ward. They were chattering to her excitedly about nothing in particular, but since they were all speaking at the same time, what they were saying wasn't making a whole lot of sense. Rose laughed and indicated for them to clear a path for her.

Novice Hame had explained to the kids one day that Rose didn't have her full strength and that they should therefore be gentle with her. Ever since then, the children had been especially caring towards her. Today was no different as they all went silent and stepped aside to let her pass.

She moved into the room and sat herself down on her regular spot on the carpet in the centre of the space. "So," she clapped her hands, "What are we reading today?"

Elsabeth, the girl who had asked the Doctor that awkward question a few days ago, neared Rose timidly. In her hands, she held a very large, very old-looking book. It couldn't possibly have had the ability to project holograms as the children's other books did.

"What have you got there, Elsie?" Rose asked her kindly.

"It's a book with ancient fairytales," Elsabeth told her, "My mum brought it for me this morning. It's been in our family for generations."

"Well, give it here, then," Rose said with a smile.

Pleased with herself, Elsabeth handed the book to her. All the kids had, by this time, bunched around Rose and Elsabeth to get a closer look at the new, strange object.

"It looks dusty," one child piped up.

"It's just old," Elsabeth said with an angry look over her shoulder at the boy, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?"

"Oi, don't fight, you two," Rose said absently as she scanned the pages.

With a hint of chagrin, she realised that the book of quote "ancient" fairytales was in fact a compilation of the very fairytales that she had grown up with.

Then again, her childhood world was more than a billion years into the past in relative time. She herself would probably be considered a cave woman by these children's standards.

The idea of time passing caused her thoughts to go to a place that she sincerely didn't want to visit. Because of this, Rose tried to stifle her inner monologue by turning the page to the first story she came across. She smiled ironically when she saw which story it was.

"Right," she said, looking around the room at the youngsters, "This is the story of Brier Rose."

…

Rose rubbed at her eyes emotionally when she exited the children's ward for the last time. Her stay had lasted longer than she'd expected and she noticed that it was already dark out as she started navigating the halls back to her room.

Having to tell the kids that she was leaving had been one of the hardest things that she'd had to do in a long time.

When saying goodbye to adults, they usually felt sadness at one's departure, but everyone would downplay what they felt all the same so as not to make it even worse on anyone.

Kids were different. When faced with news of any kind, they tended to start asking questions about it.

Questions that Rose had preferred not to answer.

The nurses had to come to her rescue at the end of the day, having to pry each individual crying child off Rose's legs before she could even stand a chance of leaving. After that, leaving was all she could do not to cry in front of them.

Rose walked down the corridor, holding in the tears for appearances' sake. She didn't want to deal with anyone stopping her and asking her if she was alright. She didn't feel like talking to anyone, period. She knew that there was only one face that could make her feel any better at the moment.

When she opened the door to her room, however, he wasn't there.

Instead, Novice Hame was standing in front of her, along with a group of three other, tittering nurses.

"Where's the Doctor?" Rose asked.

"He'll meet you in a minute," Novice Hame said. Her words seemed to cause the three nurses standing at her back to titter considerably more.

"What's going on?" Rose asked warily.

For the first time, she noticed the piece of clothing that lay in wait on her bed.

It was a dress. An absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous ball-gown, to be more precise.

"What's that for?" she asked, staring in awe at the midnight-blue material.

"That's for you," Novice Hame said with a warm smile. She walked over and gently lifted the dress to give Rose a better view of it, "What do you think?"

Rose touched the intricate detailing on the garment in wonder. "It's brilliant," she said, "but why would I want to walk around here in that?"

"Don't question it, dear," one of the nurses said, moving forward, "just trust us."

Rose was still confused as the group of ladies grabbed her and threw her into full makeover mode. They started on her hair, moulding it into a soft crown on top of her head and topping the do off with some local black roses. Then they moved on to her makeup, keeping it simple on the lips, but really playing up the drama around her eyes.

Finally, the dress came. It fitted Rose perfectly in both size and personality; a strapless sweetheart-neckline with a form-fitting bodice that flared out into perfect waves at her knees.

When they turned her towards the mirror, Rose gasped at her own reflection. The pale, ordinary girl that usually lay there had been replaced with an extraordinary creature. The darkness of her eyes and her garb made her seem mysterious, dangerous and, most importantly, timeless.

The woman in the mirror was someone who belonged with the Doctor.

Then the nurses were leading her out of her room and into yet another twist of hallways. When they all piled into the elevator (which, thankfully, was not the kind that sprayed you with disinfectant), Novice Hame announced that they were heading for the hospital foyer.

Why on New Earth did she have to dress so fancy for a trip there?

They reached the double doors leading to the foyer within minutes. The nurses were practically bouncing up and down with eagerness to show her what lay on the other side of the doors.

"Ready?" Novice Hame asked her.

"I suppose," Rose said, still not knowing quite what to make of the situation.

The doors opened to a monumental shout of "surprise!".

Rose had to blink several times to make sure that she wasn't dreaming. The entire foyer was softly lit with fairy lights. All the doorways were garlanded in various unknown but beautiful flowers. All the furniture in the large space had been moved up against the walls to make space for the large crowd of hospital personnel that were now all smiling at her.

Looking at where she was, how she looked, Rose couldn't help but feel like a princess.

And at the very front of the crowd, looking extremely dashing in a black and white tuxedo, her prince stood.

"So," the Doctor looked at her with a small smile, making no attempt to conceal the wonderment in his eyes at how breathtaking she looked, "You asked me to take you to a New New York party. Will this suffice?"


	10. Episode 1 Part 9

Rose felt her eyes well up.

Seeing the tears, the Doctor's smile disappeared instantly. "You don't like it," he said in horror, "Did I do something wrong?"

Rose laughed as she tried to clear the tears from her eyes. "No, you daft alien," she said. She walked over and grabbed the Doctor in a tight, sure hug, "It's beautiful."

When she pulled back, the Doctor was beaming. "I knew you'd like it," he said.

Rose turned around and looked out over the crowd of expectant guests. "Should I maybe—I dunno— say a few words or something?"

"I suppose if you want, yeah," the Doctor told her, nervously pulling at his ear. He suddenly realised that he hadn't really thought about what to do after Rose had actually arrived at the party.

Rose smiled at the people and cleared her throat. She didn't really know what to say to them. She resolved to just start talking and hope for the best.

"Hello everyone," she said, giving a little wave. Then, noticing how embarrassingly awkward the gesture looked, she dropped her hand to her side, "Umm, I've never really been good at this whole public speaking thing…"

She looked to the Doctor for any kind of helpful inspiration.

"I think Rose just wants you all to know," the Doctor started, looking out over the crowd, "that she's really grateful to all of you for looking after her these past few days," he met Rose's eyes and it was as though he thought that she was the most valuable thing in the universe, "We both are."

Rose stared into his eyes, unable to look away. The Doctor was looking at her so intently that Rose was scared he might somehow hear the fearful thoughts that were running through her mind. That her face might somehow betray what she was really feeling…

The Doctor nodded at her with an asking expression. He wanted to know if he had gotten her message across effectively.

No, Rose wanted to tell him. He hadn't even gotten half of it across. He could never sum up in those few short sentences how much gratitude she felt towards the people in the hospital. How much gratitude she felt towards him. He would never be able to communicate the utter fear she felt, either, because he could never know about it. A part of her wanted so desperately to tell him. To tell him everything.

But she wouldn't.

Rose smiled. "Yeah, what he said," she quipped, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

"Well, then," the Doctor grinned ear-to-ear, "Let's get this party underway!"

The classic string quartet, god knows where the Time Lord found one five billion years into the future, started playing a slow, stately melody. People moved into smaller groups, conversing with each other over the champagne and various finger-foods that were being passed around the room. The Doctor and Rose rotated between the groups, talking to each person in the massive foyer for a few minutes.

It seemed that they were the couple of the evening.

After an hour or so, Rose started to feel a little tired. She looked longingly at a tray of cucumber sandwiches as they neared her. She was just about to grab one when she was pulled into yet another conversation by the overly enthusiastic Doctor.

"—but I really _was_ there at the end of the world!" he was saying to a group of disbelieving patrons, "Had front row seats to the planet burning and everything! Tell them, Rose!"

Rose struggled not to roll her eyes at the Doctor. He just couldn't walk away from an argument without getting the last word in.

"We really were there," she told the group reluctantly. She knew that if she didn't, the Doctor would probably get all pouty for the remainder of the evening. Then she smiled slyly, "He took me there because he thought it would make me think that he's impressive."

The Doctor was just about to agree when he did a double take, instead looking at her with indignant disbelief and causing the rest of their company to laugh delightedly.

"I am impressive!" he said, "Really, Rose, you don't give me nearly enough credit."

Rose chuckled and hooked her arm around his. "I just don't want you to get a big head, is all," she joked, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder what you're going to do without me one day. Probably go all Time Lord Victorious!"

It was meant as a light jab, but Rose could see the moment (this being her mention of the fact that she one day wouldn't be there) that a flash of pain crossed his face at her words. She instantly felt sorry for having said it.

Instead of replying, however, the Doctor cocked one ear slightly to the side and listened. The quartet was playing a waltz. All around them, couples were moving onto the dance floor.

"You know what?" the Doctor said with a pensive frown, the glint in his eyes turning playful, "I don't believe we ever got to finish that dance in the TARDIS the other day."

"Hmm," Rose played along, relieved that he seemed to let the fact that she had upset him go. She put a finger to her chin, pretending to think about his words for a second, "I think you may be right."

A huge grin manifested on his face. "Dame Rose," he said formally, extending a hand towards her, "May I have this dance?"

Rose giggled and took his hand, giving a little curtsy. "Sir Doctor, it would be my pleasure."

He led her onto the dance floor in a very gentlemanly fashion. Once there, he put a light hand on her waist and used the other to grasp her hand. Rose, in turn, put her hand on his shoulder. She smiled when they started moving with the three-beat rhythm of the waltz.

The music was slow and lulling. It was almost hypnotic. Rose was well aware of the fact that she and the Doctor were pressed significantly closer together than they had been during their dance in the TARDIS.

The mood of the dance felt different, too. Their joking before the dance completely forgotten, not one of them bore the laughing joyfulness that they'd had that day. The way in which they stared into each other's eyes bore the intensity of a deep sadness. A realisation of the denial they had been in prior to their trip.

As they spun and twirled around, outshining the other couples easily, Rose knew one fact with certainty:

Her and the Doctor's time together was running out.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thought as she looked at his face. His eyes told her that he might have been.

She felt her feet go still while the music still played on. The Doctor stopped as well, his expression confused. Rose just looked at him, wondering what was running through his mind. Wondering if he felt remotely as strongly for her as she did for him.

Sometimes she thought that he did. Sometimes, she believed that he may even—

The fears that she usually hid so well were making themselves known in her mind. Time was running out, they kept saying. She didn't have forever.

And she needed to _know._

She didn't know what she was doing. He didn't know what she was doing. His confused expression drew nearer as she moved in. She just had a second to see the realisation of what was happening fill his eyes before hers closed.

Then she was kissing him.

It was warm and desperate— and over too soon. Rose only fully realised what she'd done after it was too late. Suddenly, she couldn't even look at him. She took two steps back, out of his arms, and clasped her trembling hands over her mouth.

She looked at the floor, feeling the stupid tears making their appearance once again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, horrified at herself. How could she have done that? Out of all the things that she could have done, what had possessed her to do _that_? "Oh my god, Doctor, I'm so sorry."

She ran out of the hospital doors, leaving the Doctor staring dazedly after her.

The entire foyer had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at the spot where the scene had just unfolded. Even the music had stopped. The Doctor looked at the expressions that surrounded him. The emotions on the party guests' faces ranged from shock to amusement, but only one in particular stood out for him.

Novice Hame seemed completely unsurprised.

Without giving it much further thought, the Doctor bounded out of the room after Rose. As he ran, he kept replaying the moment over and over in his head.

Not the kiss, though that had been—well, amazing, quite frankly. No, the thing that had sent a chill up his spine had been Rose's face just before she'd kissed him.

For the first time in a long time, she'd let down her boundaries.

It had shocked the Doctor to see it happen; seeing exactly how many walls she had erected between him and what she was truly feeling. Whether it had been a conscious decision on her part, or just because of the fact that she simply couldn't keep up the charade anymore the Doctor didn't know, but in that moment he'd seen everything that she'd been hiding from him. He'd seen how broken she really was inside.

And he was so angry at her for not having told him. He was _furious_.

He knew exactly where to find her. Reaching the top of the hill overlooking New New York, he saw her shadow looking out over the sea. Even as angry as he was with her, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was bathed in the weak light of the moon.

She was crying.

He went to stand beside her and looked out over the skyline of the city. It was illuminated by a million tiny lights, making the sight seem almost magical.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice sounding loud in the tranquillity of the scene.

"I'm sorry," she apologised again. The tears were streaming silently down her face, "I know I shouldn't have kissed you. I was just—"

"No," the Doctor said in a low voice, "Not that. I'm talking about the fact that you've been blatantly lying to me this entire trip."

He tried to gauge her reaction to his words and was by no means disappointed. Her eyes grew large for a second and utter terror caused her entire body to stiffen.

"W—What do you mean?" she asked him, throwing her eyes in his direction swiftly.

"_You know exactly what I mean_!" he exploded, "Rose, you've stopped talking to me! You've been hiding things from me ever since I brought you to this damned hospital! I'm not allowed to know about what the doctors are saying about you, I'm not allowed to analyse you myself—how do you expect me to know if you're alright if you don't give me any proof?!"

"Don't you shout at me," Rose answered quietly, "Not now. Not tonight. You have no idea what I've been going through these past few days. You don't understand how _hard_—" she choked, unable to hold back the sob building in her chest.

She turned to him and her eyes were hard. "I want to tell you. God, talking to you about it is all I've wanted to do for so long. But I just—_can't._"

He looked at her in stunned silence.

"You're right," he told her after a moment, "I don't understand."

The night air was warm, but an unseasonably chilly wind was blowing in from the North that caused Rose to shiver. She supposed that it was as good a night as any, though. At least the skies were clear and the stars were visible.

Rose gave a sigh and turned to look at him fully.

"I'm sorry that I ruined the party," she said softly.

The Doctor sighed as well. He knew that the fight was over. Or rather, he knew that it was over for the moment.

"It's fine," he told her, sitting himself down on the applegrass. He looked up at her and gave a half-hearted smile, "It was good while it lasted though, wasn't it?"

Rose returned the smile, albeit without the hardness disappearing completely from her eyes. She lay down on her back in the grass and stared at the stars above her. They were completely unfamiliar; so many places still waiting to be explored.

"I wish you were there with me when I said goodbye to the kids today," she said.

The Doctor lay down on his back beside her, looking up at the night sky. "I should've gone with you," he agreed, "the nurses told me that you were quite a wreck when you left there this evening."

"I was," she replied softly, "It's silly, really. I've only known those children for a few days."

"You grew attached," he said, "It can happen very quickly."

"It got me thinking, though," Rose continued, softer still, "About—kids. How I'll probably never have any."

The Doctor frowned up at the sky. "Don't be like that," he told her, "You never know what might happen in the future. You'll have kids one day, I'm sure."

"No," Rose said quietly, "I'm quite certain that I won't."

The Doctor lay there for a while, absently charting the stars in his mind. He contemplated Rose's words and what they implied. Everything she said seemed to have a double meaning these days.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"The other day when Elsie asked you that question," Rose's voice was faint. The Doctor wondered if she may be falling asleep, "If it had been just you and me and I had asked you that, what would you have answered?"

The Doctor wasn't surprised by the question. He had half-expected it to make an appearance eventually, what with Rose being so direct about things all of a sudden. Of course, he knew the answer. He'd known it for a very long time.

The only problem was that, after he said it, there would be no going back. Saying it would irrevocably change his and Rose's relationship—meaning that having to lose it would be just about a thousand times worse.

"Yes," he answered simply.

She was silent beside him for a long while, so long that the Doctor worried whether she might really have fallen asleep. Finally, though, she replied.

"That's good," she whispered.

The Doctor nodded to himself. It was good.

They lay there, not saying anything, for a long time. At first, the Doctor enjoyed it. They didn't need to speak. Everything was out in the clear now; there was no need to worry anymore. Rose had told him what she'd been hiding from him and, though he was angry, he understood it. The realisation that their relationship had an expiration date had caused both of them great distress. It had driven Rose into a depression, and she hadn't wanted him to see her like that. That was why she'd been distancing herself from him in such a way.

But everything was fine now.

Then he realised that the silence had become uncomfortably long. The only sound heard on the hill was the wind blowing above their heads. For some reason the quiet was almost _unnatural_.

The Doctor suddenly got a very, very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned his head slowly to where Rose lay.

"Rose?"


	11. Episode 1 Part 10

_"Rose?"_

Her eyes were open. She wasn't looking at anything in particular; just staring up into the sky sightlessly. Her hands rested on her stomach comfortably. It might have been a pensive position.

Had she been awake.

He looked at her, not understanding. Not comprehending the nature of what she was doing. What was she doing? What was he doing? What exactly seemed to be happening? Why was she—

He was no longer aware of time passing second by second. Time was passing in short bursts of actions. It felt as though he was living in a live-action animation, consisting of frames rather than sequences.

Frame one. He was on his feet, staring down at her.

No, no, no, no, no…

Frame two. He was sitting beside her, frantically counting out thirty chest compressions and lifting her head to blow air into her lungs. Over and over and over.

No, no, no. Oh please, no…

Frame three. She was in his arms. She was ice cold.

No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. No, no, no…

Frame four. He was running faster than he had ever run before.

Hold on. Please, please, please, stay with me…

Frame five. Lights burned bright around him, stinging his eyes as they adjusted from the darkness outside. People were screaming and crying and yelling and shouting.

Or was that him?

Frame six. Someone was taking Rose. Hands were restraining him. More yelling and shouting.

Frame seven. He was watching her through a window as people used their machines on her. She kept on lying there, staying completely still.

Please, please, please…

Frame eight. Novice Hame was talking to him. She was apologising. People were trying to console him. More yelling.

Frame nine. Novice Hame was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming the same thing over and over: "There was nothing you could have done! Do you hear me?! THERE WAS NOTHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE!"

Frame ten. Nothing mattered.


	12. Episode 1 Part 11

**Author's note: Still hurts :( **

**...**

Twelve hours.

That was how long he'd just been—standing there. Standing, hands in pockets, completely motionless, simply staring down at the covered figure on the table.

After the ordeal, he'd calmed down. The shift had been almost painfully contradictory as, in the fraction of a second, his face had gone from agony to serenity. Total, serene emptiness.

Like a corpse.

And no one had wanted to talk to that face. The live dead man. No one had wanted to stop him as he had entered the morgue and had positioned himself in front of her, so pointedly and protectively, or as he continued to stare on at the colourless sheet draped over her features which he never lifted. No one wanted to face him now, when the paperwork came.

So, naturally, the task fell to the one who knew him the best out of them.

Novice Hame entered. She couldn't see his face as his back was— with purpose, most likely— turned on the entranceway to the morgue.

She knew that he'd heard her come in, but he made no attempt to acknowledge her presence or her general existence. He was content with just living in his and Rose's world. Just his world.

She half-expected this; he had ignored the brave souls who had attempted to reason with him earlier that day in equal measure.

She clutched the clipboard bearing the papers to her chest surreptitiously, delaying the inevitable rise that she knew they would bring out in him. She had been working in this field for a while now, and she knew a bit about the way people grieved. It was like standing on a silent battleground, until one stepped on a landmine.

They stood there— her looking at him, him looking at the sheet— for longer than Novice Hame could count.

"Do you believe in prophecies, Novice Hame?"

The voice, detached and emotionless, caused her to start. She realised that that must have been his first coherent sentence in a long while.

He didn't turn around. He simply stood in his fixed position. Novice Hame knew that he expected her to answer, though.

"W—what are you referring to, Doctor?" she asked timidly.

"You know," it was as though his words were being formed independently in the air, completely irrelevant to the statue posed in front of her, "Destinies perceived, futures foretold—all that stuff. Believe in any of it?"

The question might have been merely conversational had the situation been any different. Them being where they were, however, Novice Hame knew better than to say anything, lest she state something contradictory to what he thought. And what he thought could go both ways, really.

Silence. Again.

"_She will die in battle_," he murmured cryptically. He gave a harsh, humourless bark of laughter, "Of course, this is what it meant. Not what I thought. _Never _what I think." For a brief moment, one of his hands appeared from a pocket and moved as though he was going to reach out to touch her.

"No, it's always just—_this_," he said. His hand dropped to his side instead. He gave another cold laugh (or was it a sob?), shaking his head.

Novice Hame took a deep breath and looked down at the papers she was holding. She still had a job to do. "I know it's—not optimal," she said, thinking of what an understatement that truly was, "but there are some things that need to be taken care of in light of Rose's—passing," she checked to see if he was fuming yet, but all she found was that both of his hands were now hanging pointlessly by his sides, "There are some arrangements—that is to say, paperwork and such—that you need to help us with, so as to ascertain what—how—her remains should be dealt with."

No response. At all.

She briefly wondered if she was inadvertently heading down a war path in asking these things of the Doctor. He obviously wasn't in his right mind. Beside himself with grief, as one would come to expect. Adding to that, he was also unpredictable. In a situation like this these circumstances were, to use an earlier description, not optimal.

Playing with fire, as they say…

"I tried, you know."

This startled Novice Hame anew. The words were said almost inaudibly, but what they held was utter, hopeless despair. Like the whimper of a wounded animal.

"I tried," he repeated, louder this time, "Ever since we left that hellish planet. Ever since that damn Beast in the pit said the words—anything dangerous, anything at all, I would direct us away from it. No more heated conflicts in history, no more potential revolutions. I kept steering us around in circles—deserted planet, peaceful moment in history and round to Jackie's— over and over. I know that it was boring. I know that that's not our idea of adventure. But I didn't care. As long as we were together. As long as it kept us safe. I made sure of it every time we went somewhere, made sure I wasn't even going _near_ anything _remotely_—" he choked, bowing his head.

His right hand lifted up, unfaltering this time, and pushed a corner of the sheet away. Holding one of her pale hands.

"I tried, Rose," he whispered brokenly.

Novice Hame dropped the papers to her side, understanding truly how irrelevant they were. How unimportant anything was in the face of the loss this man had just experienced.

And she knew that she had to tell him.

"There was nothing that you could have done, Doctor," she repeated her earlier words. She took a deep breath and decided, once and for all, to say it. The damage was done, after all. There would be no going against people's wishes now.

"She's been dead since you arrived."

Rose's white hand dropped back onto the table with a soft thud. His hand dropped back to his side. He still didn't turn around.

"What?" he asked softly.

"The moment that infection caught a hold of her," Novice Hame continued levelly, "At that moment, it was already too late. Rose was always going to die. There was nothing you could have done. She was terminal."

Her words took a moment to make impact.

"No," the Doctor said. His face was still hidden from her, but Novice Hame could hear the fresh emotion stirring in his voice. She couldn't place her finger on what it was.

"We informed her during testing on the third day of her stay," she told him, "But I suspect that she knew even before then. The sensation of being infected is—painful. We couldn't ascertain what it was that was attacking her system, but all treatment that we were using against it was proving to be useless. The parasite—if it was even that—was spreading through her bloodstream more every day, and there was just no way of stopping it."

"No," he repeated, shaking his head in denial, "the marks were disappearing."

"The parasite initially inhabited the bloodstream in her radial arteries," she explained clinically, "As the infection spread through her body, however, the parasite displaced itself into her major organs, causing the infection to appear to lessen in her arms, where it did less harm."

She was quiet for a moment, contemplating the true nature of the condition Rose had been in. The amount of strength that the girl had had…

"It was attacking her body from all sides. Lungs, liver, brain—but it was her heart that gave way in the end."

The revelation was abrupt, merciless.

She had been dying all along. Every moment that she had flinched after sitting up too quickly or coughing too loudly, every instance in which she had needed to sit down to catch her breath— she had written it off as being minor pains. Small obstacles on the ultimate road to recovery.

It had all been a lie.

The Doctor thought that he was going to be sick. He blew out a breath in a hard shudder. His body was tense, his fists balled-up tightly at his sides.

"Well then," he said quietly.

Something was gearing up for a fight inside of him, and Novice Hame could almost physically see it bubbling to the surface.

And the next moment he was in her face, his face twisted in agony and tears streaming down his cheeks as he shouted at her at the top of his lungs.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

Novice Hame took a step back as he cornered her. He looked at her with all the fury and the rage and the darkness of something very, very alien. Something very, very powerful. And she found herself quivering in fear at the sight of it.

"I would have," she said, shrinking back, "I knew that you, out of all people, should have known. But Rose refused. She forbade me and every single staff member to talk about it near you, to give any hint of something being wrong. When she received the news of her terminal status that day, she never once cried for herself or her own fate. When I told her, her first words were 'I can't believe I'm going to do this to him'. After that, she came to me personally and made me promise, _promise_ that I'd allow her to spend her last days on this Earth with the man she loved. With you. I told her that there was a possibility of us being able to prolong her life by weeks—maybe even months, if we could just move her to the ICU. If she would just stay put in her bed—" she blinked rapidly to clear the tears forming in her eyes, "But she wasn't having any of it. 'You watch us run,' she told me, 'I'll run with that man until the end'."

She was crying then. The Doctor was crying as well, though his expression bore no sign of it. His eyes were cold and hard and empty. And all he kept thinking was that he was alone again. That he had lost everything, again. That it was even worse this time around, because it had been _Rose_.

He had lost _Rose_.

He took a step towards Novice Hame and, for a moment, she thought that he was going to hit her. She winced, but instead he moved forward and put his arms around her.

Instead, he hugged her.

Then he released her. He stepped back two steps. He looked at her and his eyes still bore the same void of nothingness that it did before. He stayed silent for a while, the tears freely flooding his features.

"Thank you," he finally told her.

He swept out of the room.


	13. Episode 1 Part 12

He pushed away the TARDIS's comforting presence in his mind when he walked into the console room. He didn't want to be comforted. He didn't want to be consoled. He _couldn't_ be, because she was gone.

She was gone.

And he would have to tell Jackie. He would have to go over to the Powell Estate without her. Jackie would come down to greet them when he exited the TARDIS. To see her daughter. And she wouldn't be there. And Jackie would ask him where she was. That fear for her daughter that he always saw in her eyes would make another appearance. And he would have to tell her. He would have to tell her that he couldn't keep his promise. He couldn't keep her safe like he'd told her he would.

He stormed into his bedroom. He looked around the space that had been abandoned by him for the past few days, and it seemed alien. Completely foreign.

He hadn't wanted to come back to this place until he knew that she would be fine. Until he could bring her back with him.

They never talked about the nights. The nights in which one or both of them would have bad dreams. The nights in which she would come into his room and sit on the end of his bed, telling him about her fears. Listening to his fears. Somehow they would always wind up falling asleep and the nightmares wouldn't return. They would wake up holding each other, tangled up in the covers of his bed. And they wouldn't question it. They would get up, she would leave and they would move on with their lives. And it would happen again the next evening.

He knew that the pillows on his bed smelled like her. He made no move to near them as he sometimes did, though. Now they were just a reminder that she would never lay her head down on them again. That he'd failed her.

He'd never noticed how much Rose had influenced this room until now.

Before, it had been just another place for him to work in peace; an impersonal space between four walls with a smattering of various artefacts, schematics and the like, a small bed in a forgotten corner of the room for when he got tired, which he almost never did.

Since Rose, the room had become less equipped for work and more for remembering. The artefacts had been replaced with trinkets from their various journeys. Schematics had been taken down from the walls to make space for pictures of him and Rose on their adventures.

For all the talk about him not doing domestic, his room said otherwise. And somehow, he didn't mind it. Being domestic had suddenly not seemed so bad with a companion like Rose Tyler at his side. Hell, he would have even gotten a mortgage if it meant that she would stay with him.

He always knew that a day like this would come, though. Happiness was just too elusive and short-lived for it not to. Whether she left, or they became separated, or he outlived her, he'd known that she would leave him eventually and that he would be left a broken man because of it.

But not like this.

This was too cruel, even by fate's standards.

To have him feel like he'd saved her, that everything would be alright, only to have that joy stamped out by the truth that the situation had never really been that. To know that she had betrayed his trust in her and yet not being able to muster up any anger, because she had done it to protect him. She had loved him enough not to want to him to try to save her only to realise that he couldn't. He knew that he would have done the exact same thing if he were in her position.

But now she was gone and all he could see were images of her and his hearts ached so badly that it felt as though he couldn't breathe.

Enclosed in the fist at his side, he was still holding onto the small object that he had salvaged. It hadn't been so much a conscious decision as impulse to take it. He lifted his hand to his face, opening his fist and looking at the thing that lay in his palm.

A black rose bud.

He found it morbidly ironic that Rose would wear such an accessory in her hair on her last night. The nurses who had picked them (to go with the dress he'd gotten her) had probably not even thought of it, but the Doctor thought that it felt like some sort of sick cosmic joke.

He'd never liked black roses. Flowers were supposed to be colourful. They were supposed to represent something full of life. A black flower was like nature's greatest oxymoron. It countered everything that he believed in; life, joy, beauty—it felt to him like a testament to the fact that Death would always have the last laugh. Always have the ability to obliterate anything and everything that was good in the universe.

Here was Death proving that fact once again.

Something in the Doctor made him move forward to look at one of his favourite photos mounted on the wall. It depicted him and Rose, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, laughing delightedly just as a very angry-looking Freddy Mercury was nearing them in the background.

The Doctor almost smiled at the memory. He had taken Rose to Wembley Stadium in 1985 to watch _Queen_ perform after she'd expressed her regret at never having been able to see them while Freddy Mercury was still alive.

It had been a blast, of course, with them eventually asking one of the more-than-slightly inebriated rockers in the audience to take a picture of the two of them. They were actually supposed to be running away from the band-members at this point, seeing as the Doctor had just insulted their lead-singer five minutes prior to the picture being taken. Hence the angry photo-bomber.

"You shouldn't have told him _Bohemian Rhapsody _was a rip-off," she'd giggled after they had lost the band-members.

"It was!" he'd replied indignantly, "You think it just _happened _to sound identical to Licra Quilinox's _Racnorican Rhapsody_ that was released almost a hundred years before Freddy's 'original' song?"

He'd thought that she would come up with a clever retort to this, but instead Rose had gone quiet. She'd looked at him blankly for a moment, before her face broke out into that small smile she sometimes got when she looked at him.

"I love travelling with you," was all she said.

He'd lifted their entwined hands up then, as though he was showing her a visual representation of the bond they shared. "Me, too," he'd simply replied.

After that, they'd naturally gotten themselves into a spot of trouble. The Doctor couldn't much remember the details of it all, but he did remember that Rose had been the first to notice that something was off, as per usual.

What had they been investigating, again? It had had something to do with a woman, he recalled. Rose had insisted that they help her after seeing the little boy clutching at the woman's leg as they had passed.

She'd always had a soft spot for kids, Rose. Especially kids who lost their parents.

That was probably why Rose had cried so much when they'd been too late in saving the little boy's mother. It had been horrible seeing her like that; trying to revive the woman while the Doctor kept telling her that it was already too late. Seeing her looking at the pictures of that little boy with his mother on the fireplace mantel—

That face.

The Doctor froze.

The rose bud fell from his hand. He made no move to pick it up, standing right where he was with his hearts beating at an increasing pace. His mind worked for two seconds, the wheels in his brain turning at the speed of light.

Then he bounded from the room, shouting "OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE!"


	14. Episode 1 Part 13

He came storming into the morgue like he owned the place.

"Novice Hame!" he shouted, ploughing through staffers as he went. She was standing to the back of the room, beside the covered figure that was once Rose.

"Doctor," she said, startled, "I thought you'd gone."

"Not a chance," he answered, looking at the shape on the table over her shoulder.

Her face had been uncovered.

He seemed to tear his eyes away from the sight with some effort, once again looking into Novice Hame's eyes, "I need to see the results of those tests you did on her."

"No, we can't do that," a nurse standing beside Novice Hame interjected, "We can't give her documents to you unless you have expressed permission from the senate of New—"

"Listen, I don't know who you are," the Doctor snapped at her, "but if you haven't noticed, I'm not in the best of moods right now, so if you don't have anything helpful to say to me, kindly _shut up._"

The nurse looked outraged, but the Doctor couldn't care less. He turned his attentions back to Novice Hame. "I need those results," he told her urgently, "_Now._"

Novice Hame nodded, turning immediately to head for the monitor mounted on the wall beside the entrance of the morgue. As she rifled through the files on the screen, the Doctor couldn't help but gravitate towards Rose's table.

He looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed. If he didn't know any better, he might have thought that she was sleeping.

"_Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty_," he murmured the Shakespearean lines.

Romeo and Juliet seemed to be a fitting story for them.

"Here," Novice Hame informed him when she found what he had been looking for.

The Doctor moved to the screen and took his glasses from his pocket. Perching them on his nose, he scanned the results faster than was humanly possible. He tried not to let the information get to him too much; seeing her deterioration in the frankest of terms, scientifically, in front of him. Graphs depicting the overall health of her vital organs all showcased dramatic plunges, but what disturbed the Doctor the most was the pain graph.

Common medical practice constituted that the patient be asked for a pain indication on a scale of one to ten—one being bearable and ten being excruciating.

On the day that Rose had told him that she was being released, she'd given an eleven.

"Doctor?" Novice Hame broke him from his horrified reverie, "Have you found something?"

"Where are her x-rays?"

She moved forward and made a few swipes with her gloved hand on the monitor. Her actions resulted in a new image popping up; an image of Rose's lungs.

"This was taken about two days before—" she decided not to say the words.

The Doctor could feel adrenaline coursing through his body as he looked at the image. He had to remain level-headed, he kept telling himself, it was just about a one-in-a-million shot that he had of being right. He couldn't allow himself too much hope.

"What's that?" he pointed. He realised that his hand was trembling and willed it to stop.

Novice Hame shook her head. "It's just a problem with the exposure," she said sadly, "We became hopeful when we saw it as well. We thought we were finally making some progress. But all the tests we did to find out what it was said that it didn't exist."

The Doctor looked at the large shadow that loomed over her lungs in the x-ray.

"Of course your tests didn't detect it," he said quietly, "How could they? It's billions—no, _millions-of-billions _of years old. Not even your hospital's files go back that far. There's probably only a handful of people in existence who would actually know what that was," he looked at Novice Hame with an indiscernible expression, "Well, I say a handful. It's probably only one."

Novice Hame was catching on to what he was getting at. He could see it in the disbelief in her eyes.

"Who?" she asked.

The Doctor gave her a great, big smile. "Me."

He did a little hop of joy and proceeded to plant a kiss right on her forehead. Then he frowned, blowing a raspberry. "Euw, not doing that again," he stuck out his tongue and removed a hairball. Looking up at Novice Hame again, he winced, "Sorry. That was rude, wasn't it?" He laughed, feeling positively giddy, "You see? _This _is why I need Rose. She's always telling me off for being rude."

He ran over to Rose's side one last time before leaving.

Looking at her laying there, the Doctor couldn't even bring himself to pretend that she was just asleep. The fact of the matter was that Rose was never this still. She was constantly moving. Constantly full of life. Even in sleep, she'd be talking his ear off the whole night through, shifting and moving around every few minutes.

And he loved that about her.

He put a hand on her pale cheek.

"I'm going to get you back," he told her.

Then he was gone.

The staffers who had remained in the morgue to witness the scene all turned with asking expressions to Novice Hame.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked her.

Novice Hame just smiled. "He's going to get her back."

…

As he ran, the Doctor felt impossibly light.

He was going to get her back. He was going to save her.

He had a plan.

"Alright, Sexy!" he cried as he entered the console room. He ran around the console elatedly, flipping switches as he went. Finally, he reached the penultimate lever, "Let's stir up some trouble, eh?"

And with that the TARDIS took flight, flinging herself and her Doctor into yesteryear.


	15. Episode 1 Part 14

**Author's note: Hey all! Sorry about not posting this sooner. In the words of a very wise woman by the name of Donna Noble: I was a bit hung over. Aanyway, these two chapters mark the ending of episode 1 and the next episode will be dropping on Saturday. **

**Hope you're liking it so far! :)**

**...**

They landed with a thud and the Doctor didn't waste any time. He was out the door in a flash, finding himself in a quiet, night-time street when he exited.

It was 1985. The time was, oh, just about—he cocked his head to the side as he calculated—just about midnight.

For a brief moment, he looked down the row of houses in the street in dismay. Which house had it been again?

His question was answered when the door to the house right in front of him abruptly opened. The Doctor moved to the hedge he had hidden the TARDIS behind. The last thing he needed right now was a lengthy conversation with himself…

"That was—horrible," past-Rose said as she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying she'd just done over the lost woman.

"I'm sorry," the other Doctor said, coming into view behind her, "I'm so sorry we couldn't do anything, Rose. I know how much you wanted to save her."

Rose rubbed at her eyes as new tears started forming there. "I just wish we could've gotten to them sooner, you know? Then maybe we could have saved her. Now she's gone, and that little boy—" she shook her head, the tears spilling over.

"Hey," the Doctor said softly as he moved forward and put his arms around her, "We can't save everyone. You know that." He pulled back to look her in the eye. "And if it wasn't for you spotting that something was wrong when you did, that little boy would have been dead, too."

His words seemed to cheer her up a bit. Not much, though.

"Yeah," she muttered, trying to clear away the tears, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand, "Let's go back to the TARDIS and I'll whip us up a nice spot of tea."

This brought a little smile to her face. "Alright," she said softly.

With that they strode off, able to console themselves in the knowledge that they still had each other.

The Doctor watched them leave. As they disappeared from view down the street, he felt the resolve inside of him strengthening.

He had to get her back. _Had _to. Failure wasn't an option.

He moved out from his hiding place, crossing the street in large strides. His past self had left the door unlocked and for that he was grateful; seeing as it was wood, the sonic wouldn't have been able to open it.

The small foyer inside led to the living room where the horrible scene had played out.

After about three days of investigation, they'd found out that the woman had been infected by a Living Shadow; an elemental shade that had escaped from the Howling Halls. They'd been at the woman's house almost instantly after they'd discovered this, but it had already been too late.

He remembered looking at the woman laying so lifelessly on the carpet and knowing that he was to blame for her loss, but just as he always did, the Doctor had pushed the guilt down. It was over, he'd told himself. At least the boy would be safe, as the Shadow would have died at the same time the woman had.

He had been wrong.

He'd discovered the truth a few days later when he was in the library.

His eyes had just happened upon it while he wasn't really paying attention. In one of the books that had been splayed out around him (as he had really been researching unicorn lore to prove to Rose that they were, in fact, real), he'd spotted the small excerpt on Living Shadows.

It had said the following:

_According to legend, Living Shadows or 'Umbra Viventis' are the most feared creatures to originate from the elemental plains of the Howling Halls. These entities are said to consist of anti-matter rather than matter, causing their existence to be factually impossible to detect. Living Shadows feed on joy. They prey on subjects that therefore feel joy and bring joy to others, absorbing their life-force until his or her inevitable demise. _

_Though it is common for the Shadow to then meet its own end in accordance to this, it has been speculated that a parasite of advanced years can have the ability to abandon its vessel shortly before death and to establish itself temporarily in another, remaining dormant until a next subject is found._

Reading the last part of the passage, he'd brushed the information off.

No, he'd thought. That was just speculation. The Shadow gathered its strength from its host. That implied that it would weaken as the subject did. By the time all major workings in the body shut down, the Shadow wouldn't possibly have enough strength to do an emergency ejection. No way. Couldn't be.

Could it?

Well, _that _oversight had really come around to bite him in the backside.

As the Doctor stood, resigning himself to staring out the living room window so as not to look at the horror that lay at his back, he knew exactly what had happened.

The Shadow _had _managed to escape.

As its subject was dying, it locked onto the nearest living thing it could find. Its host had been a single mother, and so there was only one other person in the house at the time. There was only ever one option for the Shadow to choose. And it took it. It jumped into the first available vessel. It stayed there, sleeping for more than twenty years.

The Doctor never forgot a face.

"Who're you?"

The Doctor looked up, seeing the small child standing in front of him. He went on his haunches, coming down to eye-level with the boy.

"Hello," he greeted softly, stifling the pity he felt for the child, "What's your name?"

"Elton," the little boy said. He cocked his head to the side, his face confused, "Are you a monster?"

Yes, he wanted to say. He was absolutely a monster. He was a monster for not saving this child's mother, and even more so for coming back here for his own gain.

What he was about to do would be seen as an act of treason by his people. Were they still alive, he would probably be receiving a warrant of termination shortly after the deed was done. That was the punishment for changing a fixed point in time for one's personal advantage, after all.

And that was just what he was going to do.

That day in the factory, he'd thought he'd recognised the man who had been watching them in the hallway. It was just an inkling at the time, but the Doctor could have sworn that he'd seen that face before.

As it turned out, that had been the face of the man transporting a Living Shadow. A Shadow that the Doctor hadn't even realised existed.

That had been the face of the man who had helped the Shadow find a suitable host; who had complied perfectly as the Shadow had passed from him into the alien they were chasing and, finally, into its final subject.

Rose.

Of course it would choose her. She brought joy to everyone she touched. In a universe filled with darkness, she was a rare, beautiful spark of light. She was a constant reminder that, whatever monsters there were out there, it wasn't all bad.

She was certainly _his_ reason for fighting.

And he most certainly wouldn't let her go without a fight.

"I'm not a monster," he told Elton, touching his fingertips to the boy's temples, "I'm here to take away the monsters."

He closed his eyes and searched for the Shadow in the boy's mind. When he found it, he called out to it.

"Oi!" he called, "You want joy? Here's your joy!"

And then he thought about her. Everything they'd been through. Everything they'd done. From the moment their hands linked and he'd told her to run.

He thought about the way her hair glinted in the sunlight, the way she laughed, the feeling of just holding her. He thought about all the joy that they had shared during her time in the hospital. He thought about all the things they had talked about. All the things they hadn't talked about.

He thought about anything and everything that was him and Rose in the TARDIS. Just as it should be.

The Shadow detected each memory like a bloodhound and started charging towards him.

As it passed into the Doctor, he smiled. The Shadow realised a moment too late the mistake that it had made.

"Oh, yes," he said matter-of-factly, "I forgot to mention that I'm not what you might call your typical host."

He concentrated as he pushed the Shadow into the recesses of his psyche; into a room at the very back of his mind, locking its door and throwing away the key.

"Try getting out of _that_!" he said with a smug smile.

Then, his smile vanishing completely:

"When you hurt the people I love, there is no power on this Earth that can stop me from stopping you."


	16. Episode 1 Part 15

He trembled with anticipation as he re-entered the console room and set coordinates for the factory, approximately eleven days ago. He watched the time rotor move rhythmically all through the short flight, matching his breathing to the rhythm so as to steady himself.

He'd really done it, he was rapidly realising. He'd really changed time.

The hospital had never happened. No one would remember any of it; not the hospital staff, not Novice Hame—and most certainly not Rose. All those moments they had shared were gone. Memories in the Doctor's mind with no basis in reality. Just an avid daydream with some very real emotional repercussions for him.

And he had no idea what the implications of that would be.

He'd never been one for rules. As a child at the Academy— before that— he'd preferred the beat of his own drum.

But he'd always had boundaries. Even before the Time Lords had gone, he knew that there were some lines that just shouldn't be crossed.

Lines like taking advantage of beings with limited knowledge of their futures. Lines like meddling with people's time lines.

Lines like changing established events.

And that was what Rose's death had been. It had been fixed; an event that wouldn't, couldn't and shouldn't be changed. Just like Pete Tyler's inevitable and completely unalterable demise, rationality pointed to the fact that Rose Tyler had died and, by all rights, should have stayed dead.

Well.

Perhaps he preferred being irrational, then.

As the silence and the tension in the room thickened, the Doctor realised that he was holding his breath.

Standing there, hands clutching at the console as he stared down the TARDIS corridor, he willed his dreams into existence.

It couldn't _not_ have worked, he thought adamantly. Not after all he'd done. Not after all he'd been through.

It _had_ to work. It just had to.

He waited.

Waited for one minute.

Two.

Ten.

"So," a cheery voice suddenly rang out from somewhere nearby, "After we head to Delta X-5 to drop Mister Grabby off, where to then?"

She appeared in the doorway then.

Her hair was still slightly wet from the shower she'd just taken. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright.

And she was so very _alive_.

Rose was feeling good after having showered. She'd been feeling good even before the shower, when they'd come back to the TARDIS with the alien in tow. She'd needed an outlet for all her pent up energy for a while now, and the running about they did that day had been just the ticket.

She didn't know why, but it felt as though the running was getting fewer and further in-between these days. It had been that way ever since Krop Tor. Ever since they'd had that short conversation in the console room after their reunion.

"_It said I was gonna die in battle"_ she'd told him, trying to put on her bravest face.

He'd looked at her with the most unfathomable expression, and, so decisively, he'd said:

"_Then it lied."_

It hadn't been so much a statement as a promise. They'd both known it at the time. They both still knew. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her. Ever. He'd die before he'd allow her to get hurt— fatally or otherwise.

And that scared her.

Rose caught sight of the Doctor's expression then. He was standing by the console limply, just staring at her. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost.

"Doctor?" she asked concernedly, moving closer to him. She touched his hand softly, "You alright?"

His wide eyes darted across her face as though he was memorising every single inch of it. He grasped her other hand and held both tightly for a moment. And then he just looked at her. Looked at her as though he hadn't seen her in years.

Before she could fully process what was happening, she was in his arms.

He hugged her as tightly as he could. Holding on for dear life.

There was such a desperation in his actions, such a change from the way he'd been just half an hour ago, that Rose found herself genuinely distressed at the sudden outpouring of emotion. The way he was clinging to her—like he just couldn't pull her close enough. Just couldn't hold her fast enough…

"Doctor," Rose said in pleading tones, "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

He pulled back and smiled the most heartbreakingly happy smile she'd ever seen him smile.

Were those tears in his eyes?

He cupped her cheeks, that joyful expression still in place. "It's really you," was all he said before pulling her into a kiss.

She stiffened for only a moment as his lips pressed firmly against hers.

Then she kissed him back, and it was wonderful. Loving and urgent and passionate. It sent a warmth through her entire body and she could practically feel the overt happiness radiating from him.

And she didn't understand. She didn't know why he was kissing her or why he was acting like she'd been gone for an eternity.

She didn't care.

It was over too soon. The Doctor stopped the kiss quickly and Rose could see the disbelief in his eyes at what he had just done.

With a hint of exasperation, she realised that he was most probably never going to mention it again. Just like all the other little moments they shared, this instance was going to be swept under a rug labelled "do no lift".

He cleared his throat and took two steps back, pulling at his ear awkwardly. "Uhm," he said very eloquently.

"What's happened, Doctor?" Rose asked him, remnants of that previous fear creeping up in her again, "What's wrong?"

He dropped the hand pulling at his ear, instead entwining it with her hand. "Nothing's wrong," he told her, "That's the point."

She raised a dubious eyebrow and he shrugged. It was one of those overly nonchalant shrugs he gave when he was trying to brush something off.

"Listen," he continued quickly, obviously attempting to divert her attentions away from the matter at hand, "How about I take you somewhere special?" he grinned, "Somewhere amazing."

Rose kept quiet for a while, trying to come to a decision. Something inside of her was telling her to drop the subject, and for the first time, she found herself complying. There was just this look in the Doctor's eyes—she couldn't possibly fathom what it was, but she could see that the past half an hour that they had been apart had taken some kind of toll on him.

What wasn't he telling her?

She shook her head, reining the curiosity in. She let go of his hand, perching herself on the jump seat. "Alright," she told him, returning his grin, "Where do you reckon?"

"Well," he said lightly, turning his back on her to fiddle with the switches on the console board, "I was thinking I'd take you to see New York in the 1920's."

"New York in the 1920's," she repeated wistfully, "What's that like?"

Then he heaved a sigh and turned around to face her again. Quite obviously, they weren't going anywhere until the Time Lord had spoken his mind. Rose gave him a prompting look, wondering what could be bothering him so much.

"Remember when I took you to that planet with the flying manta rays?" he asked her, slowly moving over to where she sat until there was barely any distance between them.

Rose saw that that unfathomable expression had returned to his eyes. It was such a strange mingling of joy and pain, such an alien emotion, that she found herself just staring up at him silently, unable to think of anything to say.

After a long moment she shook herself from her mute state, her brows knitting together at the mention of the trip. They never talked about that.

"Volatilla?" she inquired.

"Yeah," he gave a small smile at the memory, "That one. Do you remember what we talked about that day?"

Rose nodded slowly, both afraid and interested as to where this conversation was going. "You asked me how long I was going to stay with you."

"And you told me that you were going to stay with me forever," he said, looking at her evenly.

"I did," she agreed.

"Listen, Rose," he paused and frowned before continuing. She'd never seen him search for words like he seemed to be at the moment. Like he was trying to tell her something without upsetting her…

"I know that our definitions of forever aren't the same thing."

And then it dawned on her.

"Oh god," she whispered. She blinked rapidly at the moisture that suddenly started filling her eyes, not wanting him to see how distressed she was.

She finally understood why he was acting the way he was. Why he'd been acting strangely ever since they'd come back from that impossible planet.

He'd been steering them around in circles. Alien planets completely devoid of excitement, boring moments in history and then to the Powell Estate—over and over. She'd thought that he was just in a bit of a rut at the time; maybe a tad tuckered out after all the excitement on Krop Tor.

Had it really been a hint all along? Had he subtly been trying to tell her that it was time she moved out? If not back to her mum's, then maybe some faraway alien planet or a historical setting that struck her fancy?

It had only been a matter of time, she supposed. Happiness was just too short-lived for it not to be.

The striking of this revelation almost felt as though it was causing her physical pain, but when she looked back up at the Doctor, it was with a hardened look in her eyes. If this was what he wanted, she'd be damned if she showed him how much it hurt her.

"Doctor, do you—" she took a deep breath, "Are you asking me to leave you?"

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "What?" he grasped her hands tightly, closing what distance was left between them swiftly, "No! No," he shook his head, looking very disturbed indeed by the thought. He met her gaze intensely, "Rose, no. _Never_."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, then."

"Blimey, give me a heart attack, why don't you," he muttered. He shook his head as if to clear it of the thought. Then he gathered his bearings and started again. "Now, as I was saying, my definition of forever and yours are two very different things. I know that when you promised that you'd stay with me forever, you meant that you'd stay for the rest of your life and not—not for the rest of _my _life. I get that. I do," he paused again, "And, well, I just want you to know how much that means to me. That you'd do that for me. Everything you've done for me. Just _being _here in general. Because Rose, I—I don't say it enough. I never actually tell you these things. And someday—someday I'm going to regret that. So much. And I _know_ that if—when—that day comes, it's going to hurt no matter what. But it'll just hurt so much more if I realise that I never actually _told _you—" he trailed off.

"Told me what, Doctor?" she asked quietly.

"Rassilon, this is hard," he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He looked at her earnestly and took a deep breath, "Rose, I—"

And then her phone rang.

"Hold that thought," she told him, noticing how his face fell."It's my mum," she mouthed as she put the phone to her ear.

"Of course it is," he muttered.

"Mum?" Rose frowned as Jackie spoke loudly on the other side of the line, "Mum, calm down. What ha— alright, don't worry, we can sort this out," she listened for a moment and then threw a worried glance in the Doctor's direction, "why?" she asked. As she listened for another moment, something dangerous flashed in her eyes, "Alright. Listen, Mum, we'll be right over."

She pressed the disconnect button on her phone, murder in her gaze.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked her worriedly.

"Some bloke came round to Mum's and pretended to be interested in her!" she said furiously, "Turns out that he was actually just trying to get through to you the whole time! Mum said she found a picture of me in his jacket."

The Doctor frowned deeply at this. He didn't like the fact that people were trying to get to him through Rose and her mother. Not at all.

"Did you catch a name?" he asked.

"Mum said he called himself Elton," Rose told him.

"Really?" he said incredulously. Then, to himself, "What are the odds?"

"Doctor?"

"How about we pay Elton a visit?"

"Yes," Rose said decidedly. She had that scary I'm-gonna-kill-him look in her eye and the Doctor briefly felt sorry for the bloke she was about to unleash her wrath upon.

"I think I'd like to have a little chat with him," she added curtly.

Their previous conversation forgotten for the moment, the Doctor set the TARDIS coordinates for Rose's London.

And he couldn't help but smile to himself whilst navigating the vast Time Vortex.

He'd done it. He'd really done it. She was alive and well and, owing to the apparent lack of Reapers, it seemed that he'd actually gotten away with changing the course of history.

He couldn't describe the immeasurable lightness he felt within. Couldn't describe the feeling of thinking that, for once, maybe the universe was on his side. That maybe he and Rose really were meant to stay together.

In the timelines of old, a minuscule crack appeared.


	17. Episode 2 Part 1

**Author's note: What? But Bunny, it isn't even Saturday yet! **

**Yeah, sorry guys... just couldn't bring myself to wait any longer :D**

**...**

**Episode 2: Vampires don't sparkle**

The Doctor stuck his head out from under the console and frowned. The console room was quiet. Too quiet.

There was a distinct lack of—_Rose-ness._

Frown deepening, the Time Lord realised that it had been a good five hours since he'd last seen his companion. And it was in the middle of the afternoon. She couldn't possibly still be sleeping.

A small part of the Doctor found it a bit concerning that he so yearned for her company. How her absence, even if it was only for a few hours, could cause such a deep pit to form in his stomach.

Of course, this thought lead naturally to the next; the memory of a time when he'd thought that she was gone _permanently._

That hadn't just been a pit, though. Much as he hated to think about it, he could still remember the feeling vividly: it had been a full-blown black hole. An all-consuming entity, eating away at his very being.

But he'd fixed it. He had. To date, which was now hitting the three months mark after the hospital, there still hadn't been any Reaper sightings. Apparently, the universe had compensated completely around the fact that Rose Tyler was alive.

The Doctor had many a time wondered why that was. In his internal speculation, he'd come up with just about a thousand reasons why this fact shouldn't bother him. Should be unsurprising, really.

For one, Rose had been travelling with him for such a long time now that there were versions of her spread out through almost the whole of time and space. Her timeline, like his, wasn't exactly linear. People like them could get away with taking liberties with established events in their timelines, couldn't they? He himself had played around with his own timeline in the past, and he was fine.

The Doctor shook his head to clear it. It was thoughts like those that turned Time Lords into gods and, as he'd said in the past, he'd make a very bad god.

Then, of course, there was a darker possibility for the universe compensating around Rose. Even as he thought about it now, the Doctor tried desperately to push the doubt away from the forefront of his mind.

It didn't let up, though, and made itself known loudly and clearly:

Maybe the universe had other plans for her. Maybe there was something worse on the horizon.

An approaching storm…

The thought prompted him to get up from his position on the floor and to go searching for her. He had an idea where she'd be, as she usually spent most of her time on the TARDIS either with him in the console room or in the library.

When he walked into the large space, he couldn't help but smile when he spotted Rose curled up on an armchair, happily reading away at the book in her lap. Her face was relaxed as her eyes moved with the words on the page, a small smile hinting at her lips. She seemed content.

He was content, too. That was another thing that niggled at his mind from time to time. Just watching her in these little moments, doing mundane things, put him completely at ease. Slowed the constant stream of thoughts and worries running through his head. When he saw her like this, he knew that everything was fine. She was there and she was alright.

He wanted to leave the moment undisturbed for as long as possible, and so he made his way over to her as quietly as he could. He smiled softly and leaned over the back of her armchair.

"Whatcha doing?"

Rose nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him speak so closely to her ear. She slammed the book in her lap shut and hastily shuffled it from his view. Then she glared at him as he came around to face her, seating himself in the armchair opposite to hers with a big old grin on his face.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she implored, putting a hand to her chest.

The Doctor's grin widened. "Yeah well, you had your head so deep in that book, you'd have hardly noticed if I came past with a leaf-blower."

Rose smiled, but there was a steady blush creeping into her cheeks. "Did not," she countered.

"What were you reading, anyway?"

Rose cast her eyes to the side. "Nothing much," she told him as the blush on her face intensified.

"Oh?" the Doctor said sceptically. He looked at the book that she had now successfully wedged between her leg and one of the armrests of the chair, "What is it, then?"

"I said it's nothing," she muttered, wishing he'd just drop it.

He didn't drop it. In fact, the Doctor then got up and, with a curious expression on his face, moved closer to her. Rose's breath hitched a little at the back of her throat when he placed a hand on her thigh and moved her leg out of the way to get a better view of the book.

He arched an eyebrow and held the book up to see. "_Twilight_?" he asked, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Rose rolled her eyes at him. She could see that he was trying very hard not to laugh at her. He was going to leave that bit for _after_ the teasing. "Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about," she said defensively.

"And?" he asked, his eyes still glinting playfully, "Is it living up to the hype?"

"I think it's romantic," she said with a little shrug. She didn't voice the fact that she found herself empathising with Bella, at least on some level. Forbidden love and mortality and all that…

"It's a bit—angsty though, isn't it? All that staring and whatnot."

Rose wanted to give a scoff at this. The Doctor was one to talk. Sometimes the Time Lord could be a great big ball of broody, frowny angst.

"I mean, it's all well and good during the daytime," the Doctor continued on his tangent, "But then suddenly he's sneaking into her room at night to watch her _sleep_? That's borderline voyeurism, that is."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, ready to get a little bit of her own back. "You can talk," she said, raising an eyebrow, "Just last week I caught you staring at me in my bed in the dead of night!"

It was the Time Lord's turn to blush. He reached a hand up and tugged at his ear, as was his habit. "That was different," he muttered, shifting his eyes away from hers, "I was just—checking up on you."

"Oh, yeah?" Rose laughed at his embarrassed expression, "Just checking to see if I was still breathing?"

She expected him to laugh. Expected him to narrow his eyes at her and reply with some joke at her expense. Maybe even expected him to pout and glare as he sometimes did. What she didn't expect him to do was what he actually did, which was recoil as though he had received a blow. For just a second, a look of utter pain manifested on his face.

And through that look, Rose knew that the answer to her question was yes.

That was exactly what he'd been doing.

Then he hid the expression behind a very well-rehearsed grin. "So which team are you, then?" he asked her lightly.

"Huh?" she was still too preoccupied by the shock of seeing his reaction to her previous words.

"Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

Rose let whatever he was feeling go—for the time being. She'd bring it up later again; he could be assured of that fact.

"Hold on," she grinned at him mischievously, "Doctor, how do you know so much about these books?" She gave a gasp and put up her hands in feigned mortification, "Don't tell me you've actually _read _them?!"

The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, coughing awkwardly. "Well, you know, I just—I just wanted to see what it was all about, like yourself. Really, it was just scientific curiosity."

"_Scientific curiosity_," Rose echoed incredulously before bursting into a fit of giggles.

When she saw the Doctor scowling down at her, it just elevated the laughing. "You're a _Twihard_!" she gasped as she felt moisture starting to fill her eyes from all the laughing.

"I am _not _a _Twihard," _he said sulkily.

"And I'm assuming you're taking Jacob's side of things," she continued teasing him, wiping the tears from her eyes, "Seeing as you _absolutely do not_ approve of borderline voyeurism."

"Actually, I'm Team Bella-should-stop-hanging-around-blokes-who-want-to eat-her," he retorted, "Personally, I'd think that the words 'I fancy you, but I also want to kill you' is a bit of a turn-off."

"Sounds like you've just got no sense for romance," Rose said, getting up and playfully nudging his shoulder.

"I do _so _have a sense for romance!" he scoffed, "I'm plenty romantic!"

"Could've fooled me…" Rose muttered.

"And besides," the Doctor continued, apparently not having heard her, "I don't see how being with either a Lupine Wavelength Heamovariform or a Plasmavore could be terribly pleasant. I happen to know for a fact that at least one of those species are terrible kissers." He gave a small shudder.

She raised her eyebrows. "What, you're telling me that vampires are real now, too?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense of the word," he started technically, "But there are some species out there that can be seen as vampires, I suppose. Species that prey on others and feed on their life force—"

Like Living Shadows, he thought to himself.

Rose gave him one of those brilliant smiles that could make him drop everything at a moment's notice and do whatever she asked of him. She grabbed his hand and started pulling him along behind her excitedly.

"Well, come on then!"

"Where are we going?" the Doctor asked smilingly, finding her enthusiasm infectious.

She only answered once they reached the console room. She released his hand as they ran up the ramp to the console in the centre of the room and turned to look at him. "We're going to go find a vampire!" she stretched her eyes wide and waggled her eyebrows.

"And where do we plan on finding this vampire?" he asked her, waggling his eyebrows in equal measure.

Rose cocked her head to the side and looked at him as though he'd just dribbled on his shirt. "Why, Transylvania of course!" she told him, as though this destination was meant to be obvious.

He rolled his eyes. "There aren't really any vampires in Transylvania, Rose."

She fixed him with a tongue-twixt-teeth smile. "Wanna bet?"

He looked at her for a moment, wondering whether he should indulge her whim. Of course, the way her hazel eyes were looking at him; wide and filled with anticipation, waiting for him to take her hand and lead them to another adventure—

Well, how could he say no?

"Ten quid?" he asked her.

Her smile widened. "Ten quid it is."

Their eyes still on each other, he flipped a switch that sent the TARDIS spiralling through the vortex. As always, the ship shook violently as she travelled, but to the two travellers on board, this all served as part of the excitement of journeying to a strange, new place and time.

The trip quite literally ended with a bang as the TARDIS found solid ground. The Doctor and Rose were sent sprawling in a tangle on the floor as they made impact.

"Right!" the Doctor said cheerily, getting to his feet and helping Rose to hers as well, "Let's get this goose chase over with, shall we? I could use a spare quid or ten."

Rose poked him good-naturedly. "Oi, don't think I'm going to go down without a fight," she grinned.

"You never do," he told her, returning the grin. In the back of his mind, he tried not to let the implications of his reply carry too much meaning.

They stepped out into a cool night breeze.

They had landed in a village, it seemed. It would have been a charming one, too, with pleasant cobblestone streets in different shades of red bricks and small townhouses that lined the streets in the same style. It would have been beautiful, in fact, had there not been an ominous, grey mist rolling all around them and a blood red moon above them in the sky in full swing.

The overall picture on this night was not that of beauty, but that of complete malevolence.

Rose found herself moving a little closer to the Doctor's side.

"It's a bit—quieter than I'd expected it would be," she murmured.

She was right. Except for the two of them, the place seemed deserted. The only thing to be heard in the street was silence.

It was deafening.

The Doctor could feel that Rose was more than a little unnerved by the scene as she pressed more tightly still into his side, her hand grasping at his.

She wasn't alone, either. He couldn't explain it, but it felt almost as though the atmosphere was _meant_ to make them feel uneasy. Whatever the reason, small alerts were going off in his mind; mauve for danger.

When he spoke to Rose, however, his voice was light. "See? What did I say? Absolutely no v—"

And then the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sound of a monumental hoard of footsteps.

"There might not be any vampires about," Rose breathed as they watched a large source of light approaching them, "But I reckon we just found the angry mob looking for them."


	18. Episode 2 Part 2

The Doctor moved a protective arm in front of Rose and manoeuvred her slightly behind him as more and more people pooled into the cobblestone street. They were a very stereotypical mob, the Doctor mused; complete with pitchforks, torches and no imagination.

The group of people were stopped short when they saw the two waiting for them at the bottom of the street. Quite obviously, this wasn't a sight any of them had expected.

For a moment, both groups just stared at each other in a stand-offish silence; the Doctor and Rose to one side and the village people to the other.

Then, a burly male stepped forward from the crowd, handing his torch to the woman at his side. "What are you doing in our town at this hour?" he asked directly, evidently not the kind of man for pleasantries.

The Doctor looked out over the people. There were about a hundred of them, their ages and genders varying vastly. It seemed that the entire town had come together to form this pack of condemnation.

Their cause must be worthy one—or at least it was in their eyes.

"I'm the Doctor and this is Rose," he said, and Rose took a step out from behind him, "We're travellers."

The man nodded curtly, not extending any form of greeting or introduction towards them. Instead, he turned his back on them and began talking to a man who looked to be a clergyman.

Rose exchanged an asking glance with the Doctor, but neither of them really had an answer as to what was going on.

After a heated conversation, the clergyman stepped forward. He moved to face Rose, causing the Doctor to stiffen slightly. The man lifted what looked to be a small crucifix to her face and held it closely there for a few seconds.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked incredulously, looking at the crucifix where it almost touched the tip of her nose.

"Be quiet, child," the man simply said.

After another moment, he took the crucifix down with a small nod of his head. Then, he lifted the object in his other hand; a tiny vial filled with clear liquid. He muttered some unintelligible words, and then proceeded to splash half of the contents of the vial into her face.

"Hey!" she cried indignantly. She wiped the water out of her eyes and took an enraged step forward, ready to most likely punch the man in the face.

"Rose," the Doctor warned quietly, pulling her back to his side by her wrist. They were walking on eggshells around these people as it was already; Rose losing her temper with one of them was not exactly a move that would be in their favour at the moment.

"She is mortal," the man announced to the crowd.

The entire party seemed to relax when they heard this. Pitchforks and Torches were lowered and more than a few sighs of relief were released. Some hugs were even exchanged.

The burly man from before stepped forward once again. "I apologise for that," he told them, "It is a security measure that must be taken with all newcomers to our town, I'm afraid."

"These people are scared," the Doctor observed, looking at the fear that so clearly overtook all of the townspeople's faces, "Why?"

A grave look passed over the man's face. "It is the demon," he said quietly, anguish filling his voice. The sound of it almost prompted Rose to reach out and comfort the man, but she knew better.

"It has been tormenting us for far too long," he said, shifting his gaze to something over their shoulders, "It has forced us to lead our lives in constant fear for ourselves and our—" he swallowed thickly, "our loved ones."

The Doctor and Rose turned to see what the man was gazing at, but all they saw in that direction was a view obscured by fog.

Maybe it was just her overactive imagination, but Rose could have sworn that the fog hadn't been that thick a moment ago…

"We can help," Rose said as she turned back to the man, "What's your name?"

"I am Felix Cezar," he introduced himself, "I am the head of this village."

"So tell me this, Felix Cezar," the Doctor said, turning back. He'd been contemplating the fog-obstructed view too, an uneasiness rising in his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling that something in the air was—building. "Why is it that you felt the need to wave crucifixes and holy water around in my friend's face when we arrived and not mine?"

"It takes the women," the clergyman from before answered, stepping to Felix's side, "Never the men. When the demon appears in the night, it only ever preys on females. It—transforms them." He glanced guiltily at Felix as he said his last sentence and Rose noticed that the man paled at the mention of the words.

"And you are?" the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow at the man who had previously been harassing Rose.

"My name is Father Dorin," he said with a sage smile, "I am in charge of blessing the holy items used in combat against the beast. I do it in the hopes that the struggle between man and the devil will one day meet its end."

"Noble," the Doctor nodded, though his tone held a slight hint of scepticism.

"And this demon, it took someone you cared about?" Rose addressed Felix, who seemed to be quickly losing his grip on his emotions. She stepped forward slightly, but once again the Doctor held her back with a small shake of his head. He wasn't quite sure if he trusted these people to be peaceful just yet—not with their vast array of weaponry still held at the ready, at least.

"My daughter, Ana," Felix said, blinking rapidly, "She was only sixteen years old."

The Doctor nodded, not needing a moment's notice to come to his resolve. "We can help," he told the emotional man firmly, "Tell us everything you know about this demon."

Unexpectedly, the Doctor's prompt caused the crowd at Felix and Father Dorin's back to stir afresh. Before his disbelieving eyes, the people scattered; grabbing their families and running into their houses as though they were being pursued. In only a few seconds, the only people standing outside were Felix, Father Dorin, the Doctor and Rose.

"What did you say?" Rose asked with raised eyebrows.

Felix was gaping, his mouth opening and closing and his feet slowly carrying him backwards. The Doctor could practically hear the man's contemplations of escape.

Father Dorin remained calm. "The Townspeople are forbidden to speak of it," he explained to them, "Even the mere utterance of its name draws it here."

"Like a telepathic link," the Doctor murmured to himself thoughtfully. He turned to Rose and something mischievous glinted in his eye, "How do you catch a fish?"

Her eyebrows only knitted together for a second at his random question before comprehension flickered across her features.

She grinned. "Bait."


	19. Episode 2 Part 3

To say that he hated using Rose in this manner was nothing short of an understatement.

She had been willing—all too willing, really—to act as baiting device when the Doctor had told her about his scheme of luring the demon into town moments ago.

Of course, Rose being female and—well—a pretty fine specimen of femininity at that, she was their best bet of finding the creature and figuring out what exactly it was (because, whatever Rose thought, he was _not_ letting up that it was a vampire until he saw it with his own eyes).

But, seeing her standing there in the middle of the cobblestone street while the Doctor and the two men at his side hid in an alleyway; having Rose be as exposed and vulnerable as she was…

The sight was slowly killing him.

"How long does she have to keep standing there?" he voiced his worries impatiently.

Rose caught his gaze from across the street and threw him a sweet, slightly exhilarated smile. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but the Doctor found that it only elevated his need to have her safely at his side again. He just couldn't bear to think of any other scenario playing out in his mind.

"These fanciful tales of demons seem a bit rubbish to me," she said loudly into the empty street.

The Doctor almost smiled at her bad attempt at nonchalance. Almost, because his smile hitched upon seeing the sudden thickening of the fog around her and Rose's reactive step backwards.

She was scared.

Faster than a flash, Rose was shrouded in fog. It was as though all the fog had abruptly packed up around her, obscuring her completely from view.

The Doctor only remained rooted to the spot a second longer before he bounded towards her.

Using Rose as bait was all well and good while he could keep an eye on her, but having to risk the bait actually getting caught just didn't sit well with him. Not where Rose was concerned.

"Rose?" he called as he ran into the cloud of fog. He flailed around, trying establish some form of contact with her and growing steadily more panicked as he realised that he couldn't seem to, "Rose?!"

Why had he even thought of this plan in the first place?

"Doctor!" came a muffled cry from not too far away.

The Doctor's hearts leapt. "Rose!" he started moving in the direction of the sound, hands stretched out in front of him to find her, "Rose, come towards me! Follow the sound of my voice!"

There was no reply.

"Rose?"

He moved forward another few steps. "Rose?"

All his voice was met with was silence. His hands grasped at air. And then the fog cloud fell, revealing no sign of his blonde companion. No Rose.

Just the cold, dark figure in her place.

"Where is she?!" the Doctor shouted, moving in on the figure and not caring how imposing it was. It would never be anywhere near as imposing as the wrath of an Oncoming Storm. "What have you done to her?!"

The figure lowered the hood on the dark cloak it donned, revealing the face of a young man. He was handsome; around his mid-twenties to early thirties by the looks of things, with pitch black hair, matching eyes and skin as pale as marble.

A vampire.

"Where's Rose?" the Doctor repeated, not shouting this time but sounding equally, if not more, menacing.

"Oh, my dear Count!" Father Dorin exclaimed, rushing forward with Felix in tow. All their fear apparently forgotten, both men took the vampire's hand in front of the Doctor's disbelieving eyes.

"You know him?" the Doctor asked them incredulously.

"He is the nobleman who takes up residence just outside of town," Felix nodded, sparing the Count a half-hearted smile, "He has proven to be a valuable member of our community."

"He graciously aids us in our financial needs for battling the demon," Father Dorin added with a proud nod.

The Doctor just gaped at the two men.

"Are you serious?" he asked them after a moment. When they didn't seem to comprehend what he meant, the Doctor barked out an incredulous laugh. "He's the demon!" he exclaimed, feeling his irritation at their incompetence in the face of the situation rise, "Here he is; right in front of you!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Father Dorin scoffed.

"He just appeared out of nowhere!" the Doctor said, now properly infuriated, "He took Rose right in front of our eyes!"

"My dear sir, I have no idea where you could possibly be getting such notions from," the pale man spoke for the first time, "I assure you, I was merely out for my nightly stroll."

The Doctor rounded on him. "Oh?" his eyes bored into the vampire's, "So you reckon my friend just disappeared into thin air of her own accord?"

"Your personal matters are no concern of mine," the Count shrugged, "Perhaps your friend was simply in need of some fresh air, much like I was prior to my walk. Either way, be assured that I will keep out a wary eye for her," he gave a small nod to Felix and Father Dorin over the Doctor's shoulder, "I bid you good night, gentlemen."

Before the other two men could return the gesture, the Doctor had caught hold of the man's arm and had spun him around to face him again. "No, no, no, you're not going anywhere," he told the Count, "Not until you tell me where Rose is."

"Doctor!" Father Dorin exclaimed, completely scandalised in the face of the strange man's behaviour.

The Count, however, seemed unfazed by the Doctor's aggression. "Where do you think she is?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't think I need to answer that question," he replied dangerously, "Seeing as you already know."

"Well, _I _think," the Count's tone mirrored that of the Doctor's as he took a step closer to the Time Lord, "That you needn't worry."

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height. "And why do you say that?" he asked, meeting the vampire's gaze intently.

A small smile formed at one corner of the Count's mouth at his defiance. "Because, Doctor, your Rose is perfectly safe," suddenly, his voice took on a distinctly lulling quality, "Don't you remember? She is in the library, safely tucked away in the—TARDIS. She is reading a book in her favourite armchair. She never came here with you."

The Doctor was overwhelmed with the image in his mind; Rose was sitting in the library in her favourite armchair, that small, contented smile on her face. She was just about to finish the first instalment of that silly _Twilight_ series…

"No," he gasped aloud, stepping backwards with his hands to his temples. He briefly closed his eyes to get a grip on himself before fixing the Count with a shocked stare, "How did you do that?"

The Count was wearing a slightly wounded expression. "You are immune to suggestion, I see," he said quietly, "You do not share the susceptibility of your friends. Why is that?"

The Doctor abruptly realised that he was alone. Felix and Father Dorin were nowhere to be seen. "Where did the other two go?"

"I have sent them to their homes," he replied airily. He narrowed his eyes, "But you, _you_ appear not to be swayed in the slightest. And the images in your mind—you call yourself _Time Lord_. What does that mean?"

"Get out of my head," the Doctor said darkly, "You have no right to form telepathic links with people without their permission. Least of all to _control_ their thoughts. I should report you to the Shadow Proclamation."

"I do not know of these things you speak," he brushed off his words. Then, tilting his head as though he was surveying some type of artwork, "But you do intrigue me, Time Lord. You seem to have abilities of a fantastical nature; far beyond those of the company you surround yourself with."

He gave a wolfish smile. "And what pretty company that is."

"Where is she?"

The Count's smile stayed in place. "Oh, and here was I thinking that I had just found myself a new beauty to occupy my lonely abode," his smile widened as he saw the Doctor's jaw clench tightly at his comment, "I do suspect now, however, that I have stumbled upon so much more than that."

The Doctor didn't know what to make of his cryptic words.

"Who exactly are you?" he resolved to ask.

"My name," the vampire flashed a set of pearly white teeth, "Is Count Dracula."


	20. Episode 2 Part 4

**Author's note: Once again you can find the link for Rose's dress on my profile :)**

**...**

Rose awoke with a jolt, a strangled cry of "Doctor!" escaping her lips.

For just a second, she was a tad embarrassed by this; had she really just called his name after having a nightmare? Blimey, she'd be getting an earful when he came running and found her completely safe in her bed.

But then memory set in and she instantly grew aware of her whereabouts, which were distinctly not in her room on the TARDIS.

She was lying in a massive four-poster, tangled up in a mess of heavy linens and fluffy pillows that seemed to be a little excessive in number for just the one person.

Casting her eyes about the room, Rose realised that this excessiveness had also carried over into the tastes of whoever had decorated the place. It was probably meant to have some sort of elegant yet gothic feel to it, but because of the heavy draperies and tapestries that seemed to adorn every inch of the room, notwithstanding the very large chandelier that hung above her head and cast odd shadows in the nooks and crannies of the space, the overall sense she got from the room was just an evident tackiness.

She was still surveying her new place of residence when a figure stepped out from the shadows, nearly giving Rose a heart-attack in the process.

"I'm sorry," the young girl apologised, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Rose nodded in acknowledgement, her hand still clutching at the spot where her heart pounded against her chest.

The girl stepped forward and timidly perched herself at the end of the bed. "Do you need anything?" she asked Rose.

"Yeah," Rose answered, regaining her composure, "I need some information, if you don't mind. Where exactly am I?"

The girl looked at her for a moment before seemingly deciding to side-step the request for information completely. "I—I could get you some breakfast if you want. It's nearly light out and—"

"I already ate, thanks," Rose cut her off adamantly. She wouldn't be brushed off that easily, "See, I think it'd be rude of me to take breakfast at someone's house without even knowing who my hosts are. Especially seeing as they were eager enough to meet me that they felt the need to _kidnap _me first!"

The girl, slightly taken aback by the other woman's forwardness, cast a nervous glance towards the door before speaking again. Rose idly wondered if there were any ears listening from the outside.

"My master has requested your presence in the drawing room upon his return. He has supplied you with appropriate dress for the meeting," the girl looked down at her clothing doubtfully, and Rose suspected that her t-shirt, denim skirt and trainers weren't exactly high-fashion for the time period the Doctor had landed them in.

The Doctor…

"If you're not going to tell me anything, then you should probably know that I've not travelled here alone," Rose started dangerously, "I came here with someone, and when he finds out that you lot have gone and taken me captive—believe me—you'll be sorry."

But even as the threat escaped her lips, she could hear that it sounded horribly empty. Even if the Doctor did notice that she'd been kidnapped, which hopefully he had by now, neither of them had any clue as to where she was.

The girl looked at her with some sympathy and Rose gave a resigned sigh.

In for a penny, she thought to herself wryly.

She took the opportunity to study her captor a bit more carefully. The girl was young, no older than eighteen, with pretty auburn hair, green eyes and a complexion that verged on unhealthily pale. As Rose's eyes skimmed over her face, she caught sight of two small, scarlet pinpricks just beneath the girl's jaw-line.

"What's that?" Rose inquired, scooting closer to the girl and eyeing the markings suspiciously. If she didn't know any better, she'd say they were—

"I don't know what you mean," the girl replied curtly, swiftly getting up off the bed before Rose could move any closer. She moved towards the door, regarding Rose with a strange expression set on her face from across the room. "You'd best get dressed," she informed her, "My master has just arrived."

With those final words she exited, closing the door neatly behind her. Rose watched the spot where the girl had stood for another minute or so, wondering whether it was wise to head out after her and probe her for more questions.

Then she shook her head. Maybe the key to finding out where she was actually lay in meeting this master of the house that seemingly wanted to make her acquaintance so badly. She took in the heavy fabric of the deep crimson dress that hung over the door of a wardrobe a few paces away and heaved another sigh.

That dress better not be as uncomfortable as it looks…

…

The Doctor eyed his posh surroundings with a hint of disdain. Even though he had technically been born into the Gallifreyan upper-crust himself, he'd never really held nobility in very high regard. For one, their interior decorating skills were terrible. Unbelievably so.

The great hall he stood in held two sets of staircases that led up to the East and West wings of the castle. The hall was also peppered with a thorough variety of statues, tapestries and paintings; each item more expensive-looking and over-the-top than the last. Perhaps the most extravagant of the lot was the massive, intricately carved organ that stood in a far corner of the room.

"You've really nailed it, you know," the Doctor remarked conversationally to the Count who stood at his back. They hadn't spoken two words since setting off for the castle.

"Once again, I find that I have no idea what you are referring to, Doctor," Dracula said rather impatiently.

The Doctor turned to him with a frown etched on his face. "This whole _Dracula_ thing. You've got the castle, the mind control, even the organ," he nodded towards the instrument, "Really, you've done a bang-up job with all of it. Might've even gotten away with it, I'd say. But then, stupid you, you go and make someone like me angry, ruining the entire setup in the process!"

Dracula shook his head at the strange man's words. "Are you implying that I am being deceitful in some way?"

"Oh, _come on_!" the Time Lord burst out as he rounded on the Count, "It's over. There's no use hiding from it anymore. I mean, Dracula isn't even a real person! He's a fictional character based on Vlad the Impaler, for god's sake!"

The Count waved a dismissive hand at the Doctor. "I have no time for such absurd words," he stated curtly, heading upstairs, "I have an appointment to keep, after all."

"Where do you think you're going?" the Doctor called after him. Then, his ire continuing to rise, "You still haven't told me where my friend is!"

The vampire threw a wicked grin over his shoulder at the man at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Oh, she will be joining us shortly."

…

Rose sat awkwardly on the plush couch in the drawing room.

For just about the thousandth time, she adjusted the skirts of her dress underneath her to get into a better sitting position. True to form, the dress was just as uncomfortable as it had initially looked. Especially so since the girl had later returned and secured her corset tightly enough to crack a rib.

No amount of looking slim constituted this level of difficulty breathing.

She could hear voices nearing the room. The sound set her heart aflutter in anticipation and she felt her curiosity pique. Rose was truly interested in seeing exactly who had taken her.

Looking at the evidence she'd seen so far— the creepy fog, the castle, the girl with the strange markings on her neck— she was quickly coming to the conclusion that there was a healthy sum of ten quid in her future.

That is to say, if she ever made it back to the Doctor in one piece.

The door to the drawing room opened and in stepped a very handsome, pale young man. And behind him—

"Doctor!" Rose jumped to her feet and bounded towards him despite the heavy garment blocking her way. The closing of the last distance between them was slightly marred when Rose finally tripped over the hem of her dress, but to her delight the fall landed her securely in the Doctor's arms.

He held her in their embrace for just a little longer than he usually did before pulling back.

He'd been doing that a lot of late…

"How are you?" he asked her with a slightly worried grin, eyeing her over and lingering slightly on her very defined torso.

"Fine," she assured him, "Confused, to tell you the truth. People haven't exactly been very helpful in clearing things up about my kidnapping 'round here."

At this the Doctor threw an accusatory look towards the other man in the room. "Yeah, that was him," he told her, his eyes flashing, "took you right there in front of me without so much as a wink."

Rose looked at the man, too. As he met her gaze with a charming smile, she found herself admiring what nice eyes he had.

So deep and thoughtful…

"I apologise for the abruptness of our encounter," he said, offering her a small, remorseful bowing of his head, "I realise that because of it we have not had a chance to properly meet," at this he moved forward and took her hand gently in his, bringing it up to his lips and brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles. He never broke eye contact. "What an atrocious way to treat a creature as uniquely exquisite as yourself. My name is Count Dracula."

"Yes. Well. That's enough of that, then," the Doctor started manoeuvring himself between the Count and Rose, the Count's intent gaze making him want to grab Rose and run for the hills.

To his astonishment, however, Rose stood fast against the Doctor's attempts to move her away from the threat and, more importantly, to extricate her hand from his grasp. Instead, she stared into his eyes just as intently and, with a light smile, replied: "Rose."

"Rose?" the Doctor asked concernedly, looking between the two of them.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful subject," Dracula murmured as he retained both his grasp on her hand and his intent gaze on her face. He started inching towards her, slowly closing the distance between them, "How I would love to keep such beauty in my life forever."

"You would?" Rose replied, her voice coming out as hardly more than a rough breath.

The Doctor had no choice but to intervene. He stepped neatly between the two, grabbing the hand of Rose's that Dracula held and using it to pull her behind him rather unceremoniously. Then he fixed the vampire with a look that could floor an army.

"Stop it," he snapped.

"Doctor!" Rose cried indignantly, trying to break free from his grip that had now moved to tightly hold her arm— and in doing so, her body— in place at his back.

"I don't approve of telepathic links without consent at the best of times, but if you think you were on thin ice with me before…"

The Count straightened from the slightly hunched-forward position he had been speaking to Rose in, coming up to eye-level with the Doctor. Rose absently noted that the two men were roughly of the same height.

For just a fraction of a second, the Doctor caught a flash of hostility in Dracula's eyes. The look reminded him of that of an animal that had been robbed of its prey. But the hostility was quickly replaced with a glint of amusement.

"The Time Lord and his little, human girl…" Dracula murmured thoughtfully. Instead of addressing the Doctor, the Count looked at the blonde head that was straining to see past the shoulder blocking her view, "Tell me, Rose, has he always been this possessive of you?"

"He has his moments," Rose answered flatly, and the Doctor could feel the glare that she was shooting at his back. He silently clenched the fist at his side; if the vampire was purposefully having a go at pushing his buttons, he was damned well making leeway.

"Well, fair game to him, I too would be possessive of one as lovely as yourself," the Count threw another charming grin Rose's way, but not before his eyes flicked towards the Doctor contemptuously, confirming his suspicions.

Then, too abrupt to be genuine, the vampire heaved an almighty sigh. "But, alas, I tire of this day and I feel that it is time to retire to my chambers," he nodded towards the pair of them, "Chambers have been prepared for you too, of course. Ana will show you the way."

At the mention of the name, both the Doctor and Rose's heads whipped up to see the girl whom Rose had previously met enter the room.

"_Oh,_" Rose breathed. Seeing the Doctor's asking glance, she explained, "I met her when I first woke up. Should've known it was her from the start."

As Ana ushered them to their chambers, the Doctor fell into step beside Rose. "There's something a little—odd about her, don't you think?" he said, quietly enough for just her to hear.

"I thought so, too," Rose agreed, "I noticed right off the back how pale she was. Paler than people usually are. But, Doctor," she leaned in more closely, "There was something else I saw, on her neck—"

"Your chambers, Doctor," Ana interrupted.

The Doctor and Rose looked up in surprise to find themselves standing in front of a nondescript door. Rose also noticed that they hadn't travelled nearly as far as she had when she'd walked from her chambers to the drawing room a few hours ago.

Ana gave a nod at the Doctor and started ushering Rose to her chambers, as well.

"Hold on," the Doctor called them back with a frown, "Where's Rose staying?"

"Male guests stay in the West wing," Ana replied slowly, "And female guests in the East wing."

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "You mean to tell me that Rose and I will be staying in completely separate wings of the castle?"

He wasn't comfortable at all with this idea. Not with Count-compulsive-flirt roaming the halls. And so, he made a logical decision, "Couldn't she just bunk with me?"

This idea seemed to affect all senses of propriety for Ana. "Certainly not!" she said indignantly.

Rose could see that the Doctor was worried about her. The sight warmed her heart. She took a step towards him and pulled him into a close hug. "I'll be alright," she murmured into his shoulder. She pulled back just a little, still keeping her hands on his shoulders, "I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"

The Doctor looked into her eyes for a long moment. By now, Rose had gotten used to the underlying fear his gaze held every time he looked at her like this, and she was almost certain that she'd also determined the reason behind it:

The Doctor was counting down the days until he lost her. He knew that any day could be her last.

Finally, he sighed. "Yeah," he answered, moving his hands from her waist to her hands and giving them a squeeze, "Yes, I'll see you bright and early."

Rose gave him a dazzling smile and released his hands before allowing herself to be ushered away by Ana.

"She'll be fine," he muttered to himself as he watched her leave.

…

When Rose arrived at her chambers, it was to find the Count leaning leisurely against her door in the long hallway. Her body's automatic response to seeing him was to tense, preparing for attack. But as she neared and she caught sight of those lovely eyes of his, all her apprehensions melted away.

"Ah, Rose," he smiled, straightening when he spotted her.

"Fancy meeting you here," she grinned.

"Yes, quite," he moved closer to her, "I was wondering if I might have a word," he moved even closer, his voice becoming low and husky, "In private."

Rose felt her pulse quicken as his dark gaze fixed on her. His close proximity was causing her to go all flustered, for some reason.

"S—sure," she stammered.

Her eyes flicked towards the door leading to her chambers and, seemingly of their own accord, her next words escaped her lips:

"Do you want to come in?"


	21. Episode 2 Part 5

**Author's note: Sorry about not posting yesterday, guys. We have this routine thing in South Africa where they like to switch off our power at inopportune moments :/**

**Anyway, link for Rose's outfit is on the profile, as per usual. Hope you like these next two chapters!**

**...**

Thoughts of Rose and the Count plagued the Doctor's mind all through the time he spent in his chambers. When light started peeking through the space between the heavy draperies in his room three hours later, he was all too eager to set off in search of his companion.

He noted wryly that it was just past 06:30.

He could already hear the telling off Rose was going to give him for waking her so early. Among all the brilliant and wonderful things about her that he'd come to discover in the time they had spent together, this was probably one of her most prominent qualities: Rose Tyler was not a morning person.

Thinking on that with a little smile, the Doctor moved forward to grab the heavy iron of the door-handle and exit the room. Just as he was about two feet away, however, the door seemed to open of its own accord.

Ana gave a small start when she found the Time Lord standing so closely to her instead of in his bed. "Oh! Excuse me, Doctor, I didn't realise you were already up," the Doctor noticed that the young girl was taking in his fully-dressed appearance and knew that she was wondering if he had slept at all.

The answer to that question was no. Time Lords didn't need to sleep. Not when their companions were in danger of falling victim to an evil vampire's flirtations, at least.

"Um," Ana cleared her throat, "My master has requested that you be present for breakfast in the dining hall at 07:00."

The Doctor looked at the pale girl and felt a bout of sympathy for her. Perhaps the way to get his mind off worrying about Rose (who was completely fine, he reassured himself again) was by getting back to the task at hand: Namely getting Ana and all the other girls that the Count had managed to take back to their families.

"Why are you so scared of him, Ana?" he asked her softly, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her to the edge of the bed behind him. He sat her down there, sitting beside her and looking into her eyes intently, "What has he done to you?"

He could see that the girl was just about to burst into tears, but instead of replying she simply shook her head. She kept her eyes firmly trained on a spot on the floor in front of her, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Ana," he pressed, "He can't hurt you. Not while I'm here. Tell me what he did and I'll put a stop to it. I promise."

"The Count is good to us," she murmured, and the Doctor knew that these words most definitely weren't her own, "He cares for us. We have no one else in life."

The Doctor could feel his jaw clenching at how completely the Count had managed to dominate Ana's thoughts. What made him even more furious was the fact that she apparently wasn't the only one.

If Dracula tried something like this with Rose…

"Ana, look at me," the Doctor told her firmly. He waited and her eyes eventually lifted to meet his. They were swimming in tears.

"We are alone," she choked out.

"No," he insisted fiercely, grabbing her by the hands, "No, Ana, listen to me. You are _not _alone. He's made you believe that you are, but it's just a lie. You have a family, Ana. Your father is worried sick about you."

Ana shook her head, refusing to believe a word he told her. "No," she insisted, "I have no family. I have no father. Just the Count. The Count provides."

The sick reverence with which she spoke of Dracula caused the Doctor's resolve to strengthen.

"Yes, you do," he countered. He let go of the girl's hands and placed his fingertips on her temples, "Look, I'll show you."

But before he closed his eyes and focused in on her mind, something in his peripheral vision caused him to drop his hands and reach in his jacket pocket for his glasses, placing them on his nose.

"Hold on," he murmured.

Rose had said last night about something on her neck…

Realising where his gaze was now centred, Ana gave a gasp and instantly jumped away from the Doctor's side. Without so much as another peep, the girl all but ran for retreat from the room.

The Doctor didn't stop her. He'd already seen what he had to.

He needed to find Rose.

…

Rose felt groggy when she woke up for the second time that day.

This time, at least, she knew where she was.

She reckoned that she couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, seeing as her escapades of the previous evening had only ended well into the early morning hours.

Still, she realised as she sat up in her plush bed with a frown, she'd gotten by on less sleep in the past. Far less. Even when having run on adrenaline the entire day and only getting in about two hours of sleep afterwards, she'd never felt quite _this _exhausted.

She felt absolutely drained.

She tried to think back on the events of the evening, attempting to remember what actions on her part could have possibly resulted in tiring her so much.

She'd come here with—someone. Who was it again?

She mentally slapped herself. It was the Doctor, obviously.

They'd been talking about something in the library. It had been some book or film, and afterwards they'd ended up landing the TARDIS in the centre of town. They'd met the townspeople and then Felix, the village head, had told them about his missing daughter.

Someone— no, not _someone_. It was the Doctor!—had suggested that they try to lure the demon that had kidnapped Felix's daughter (Ana, she seemed to recall) into town to get a better look at it. Only, when she'd been acting as bait, it had taken her.

And then she'd met _him_. Count Dracula. The dark, handsome nobleman with those absolutely _gorgeous_ eyes that stared straight into your soul. She could have looked into those eyes forever. She was sure that if he'd asked her to, she would.

Hold on.

That wasn't right.

No, she'd already promised her forever to someone (_The Doctor! _Her mind screamed) else. She couldn't stay with Count Dracula. She wouldn't.

Not while _he _still needed her.

Yes, that was it!

Abruptly, the fogginess in her head cleared and she felt a great wave of affection roll through her as images of spiky hair, pin-striped suits and leather jackets filled her mind's eye. Along with these images, the rest of the evening's events also fell into place; the Doctor's jealousy at Dracula's attentiveness towards her, his consternation at them having to stay in separate wings of the castle, his concern for her well-being so far away from him—

All but one memory.

What had happened after Ana had ushered her to her room? A small part of her remembered something along the lines of running into the Count on the way, but how long had they talked? What had they talked about?

What had happened to her?

And then she spotted something on the far side of the room. A ray of sunlight reflected off a mirror mounted on the wall. She shielded her eyes slightly against the stark light shining in her eyes, but started towards the mirror all the same.

She felt dizzy when she stood up. It was like a bad case of vertigo. It made her worry about what exactly had happened to her in those forgotten moments of the previous evening all the more.

When she first caught sight of her reflection, she gasped.

She was paler than usual. She might have chalked it up to being a result of her coming down with something akin to a cold if she didn't know any better. But that wasn't the reason for her horror.

There. On her neck. Just over her carotid artery.

Two small puncture wounds.

She spun around at the speed of light, spotting a high-necked, deep blue dress hanging over the door to the wardrobe on her right. She assumed that this would be her attire for the day. She also didn't miss the fact that the neckline of the dress would conceal the markings on her neck quite nicely.

Well, she thought adamantly as she got dressed, that definitely wasn't going to stop her from showing the Doctor. If she was one of many (which she most certainly was), she and the Doctor needed to stop the injustice being done to these girls as soon as possible.

With some difficulty, she finished lacing up the back of her dress (thankfully not as tightly as Ana had done) and headed for the door. She had barely taken two steps down the hall when she suddenly very nearly collided with a distraught-looking Doctor.

"Rose!" he exclaimed when he saw her. Relief became evident on his face and he grinned at her, "You look nice."

She felt herself returning the grin automatically. "For a human, you mean?"

His smile widened. "Well, obviously."

She giggled at this, but the laughter quickly died away on her tongue as she remembered the seriousness of the situation.

Detecting the sobering of her expression, the Doctor's smile vanished. "What's wrong?" he asked her, fearing her answer, "What happened?"

"I need to show you something."

The Doctor frowned. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. "You look pale," his brow furrowed further and he hoped that she couldn't hear the sudden increasing of his heartbeats, "Are you coming down with something?"

"No, I—" Rose lifted her hand to pull away the material around her neck.

It was best to just show him.

"Rose?"

Her hand had promptly frozen mid-action.

The concern on the Doctor's face became all the more evident the longer she stood still. After about a minute of agony, he took her slightly elevated hand in his, thumb moving in comforting circles over the back of her hand, "You alright?"

She focused her gaze back on him with a little jolt.

"What were we talking about?" she asked him dreamily.

The Doctor searched her eyes for a moment. "You were just about to show me something," he said slowly.

Her brows lifted. "I was?" she asked confusedly.

Rose couldn't fathom the darkness that then filled the Time Lord's eyes. Instantly, she could see that he had gone into full Oncoming Storm-mode.

But why?

"You were," he affirmed before pulling her down the hall after him at a brisk walk.

"Where are we going now?" she called after him, trying to keep up with his steadily increasing pace.

"Breakfast," he answered darkly.


	22. Episode 2 Part 6

"Reverse it," were his first words when he entered the dining hall.

Count Dracula raised a bemused eyebrow from his position at the head of the dining table in the darkened room. He took a sip of his tea as he watched the Doctor haul Rose in after him, moving her to stand in the centre of the room like some sort of definitive piece of evidence.

"Once again, Time Lord, I must inquire—"

"No, no, no, no," the Doctor gave a laugh that only served to emphasise his overt anger, "I'm not having that. Not now. You've crossed a line that by no means can be uncrossed, Dracula."

"Doctor, what are you on about?" Rose once again asked exasperatedly, casting an apologetic glance towards the Count.

The Doctor ignored her completely, focusing his glare solely on the seated gentleman in front of him. "Reverse it. _Now._"

The Count took another sip of his tea, paying the fuming alien no mind. He sat back leisurely in his seat and surveyed the Time Lord. "Tell me what I must reverse and I shall try to do so," he said serenely. The Doctor could hear the inherent challenge in his words, though.

"Let's see, hmm," he pretended to think sarcastically for just a moment, "Oh yes, that's right. _You've brainwashed Rose!_"

"Brainwashed?" Rose scoffed. She stepped in front of him and, in doing so, blocked off the death-glare he was shooting at the Count.

Seeing her, his gaze softened ever so slightly. "What happened to you after you went to your room last night, Rose?" he asked her, already knowing what her answer would be.

She opened her mouth to reply, but abruptly closed it again with a frown.

At this the Doctor simply nodded. "You don't remember, do you?" he sent a look the Count's way that sent a small shiver even up Rose's spine, "That's because of him. He did something to you last night and then he tampered with your memories of the event," his eyes flashed, "My guess is he didn't just make you forget about having a nice cup of tea with him."

Rose's eyes widened at the revelation.

He was right. She couldn't remember anything after having spoken to the Doctor the previous evening. And this morning, she'd found something, hadn't she? Something that she'd wanted to show someo— _the Doctor _(Blimey, why did she keep doing that?).

Something important…

Her mind was getting foggier as she tried to remember details that were just out of her mental reach. Her head ached with the effort it took to concentrate, but she pushed through.

There was something on her neck.

She reached up, hastily trying to indulge the stray thought before it slipped away. But as soon as her fingers touched the material at the neckline of her dress, her mind suddenly drew a blank.

What was she doing?

The Doctor was being silly. Nothing had happened last night between her and the Count. If she didn't know any better, she'd attribute his atrocious behaviour towards Dracula as an act of jealousy. Hell, there was no reason to the contrary for her not to.

He'd always been so _possessive _of her. Always throwing a toddler-tantrum any time a bloke showed a remote interest in her, getting all pouty when she wasn't paying enough attention to him—He'd even deferred poor Mickey to another universe eventually; getting rid of the competition in the most permanent way he could.

Maybe that had been his plan all along…

Oh, he was such a hypocrite!

So what, he could have all the Reinettes and the Sarah-Janes he wanted, but she, _she _was only allowed to have eyes for him?

_The Count would never do that to her._

Whoa—she blinked—where had _that _thought come from?

The Doctor was surveying Rose carefully, feeling his concern grow the longer she stayed frozen on the spot. He knew that she was currently waging a war inside her mind, her own thoughts pitted against those the Count had inserted to restrain her, but he could do absolutely nothing in the way of helping her. Her mind was fragile at the moment; if he tried to interfere in her head with his own psychic presence, it may just be too much for her to handle. He wasn't going to risk it.

Rose lowered her hand and seemed to return to the present. She fixed the Doctor with a glare, and he knew with fearful certainty that the Count had overpowered her.

"Stop making such a fuss," she snapped at him, "This is just you being jealous, 'cause for once I'm not following you around like some kind of lost puppy!"

The Doctor bristled as her words cut through the air like razor blades. For some reason, her retort caused an irrational anger to rise inside of him. "You think I'm acting this way because I'm _jealous_?" he asked incredulously. He shook his head in disbelief, "Rose, jealousy is the last thing on my mind right now! All I care about is your safety."

"Oh, yeah," Rose gave a cold bark of laughter that didn't suit her at all, "Right. Sure. And when you left me and Mickey alone on that ship in the middle of nowhere to go running after _Madame de Pompadour_, did you care about my safety then?"

The Doctor, wounded by the comment, started to defend himself, but Rose wasn't letting him get a word in edgeways.

"No wait, hold on," Rose continued, the spite rising in her voice, "I think I understand now. You just don't want to be lonely! Let's keep Rose safe, 'cause she's the nearest blonde around!"

"Stop it!" the Doctor snapped at her, finding it impossible not to engage in protesting her absurd words, "You know full well that it's not like that. I want you safe because I care."

"Oh, I know that," she replied, surprising him with her answer. The fact that the coldness hadn't retreated from her gaze, however, foreshadowed that there was a monumental "but" coming on. "I know you care. You care about all of us. I should feel grateful about that, yeah? Being one of the million girls you cared enough about to take along on a magical space trip!"

Her remark stung. "No, Rose—"

"_As opposed to what?_" she spoke over him, throwing the echoed words back in his face. The Doctor could see tears starting to glisten in her eyes, "That's what you told me when I asked you if I was just the latest in a long line. Stupid Rose, you must've thought. Stupid me thinking that I was too special to one day be left behind just like all the others!"

The Doctor shook his head, feeling his hearts ache at the sight of her being so upset. "Rose—"

"Will I at least get to say goodbye when you leave me?" she continued on, deaf to his protests, "Are you at least going to tell me why?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Rose, stop it—"

"Or are you just going to wait it out until _I _leave you?" she asked him, not caring about what he had to say, "What with me being so jeopardy-friendly, I don't imagine you'll have to wait very long until I—"

"_I am not losing you again!_" he shouted over her, refusing to hear any more of the venom spilling from her lips.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the Doctor knew that he had made a misstep.

His exclamation was met with a pressing silence as the two of them realised what had just happened.

That had been it; all those months of unspoken tension building up between them, all those things left unsaid—the strain had finally reached its breaking point.

The elephant in the room had finally made itself known.

Rose looked at him with an odd expression on her face; some sort of mingling of anger and confusion.

"Again?" she repeated slowly.

This was Rose. She never missed anything. Especially not small slips of the tongue on his part. It was safe to say that this little slip-up had now effectively landed his foot in his mouth.

The Doctor stuttered for a few seconds as Rose's eyebrows climbed high on her forehead, silently requesting some clarification.

"I can't talk to you like this," he resolved to say. It technically wasn't a lie, either; what with Dracula eyeing their little domestic to the one side and Rose not being in her right state of mind to the other, this really wasn't the time or the place to be discussing what he had done three months previously. Not that he was actually planning on telling her about it afterwards —or, well, ever— anyway, but that was beside the point.

Rose, however, wasn't going to be placated that easily.

"Oh no," she said dangerously, "You're not shutting me out this time. That's the most you've said to me about what you've been feeling in a long time, and we're talking about it whether you like it or not. I don't care how _inconvenient _you think the situation is!"

Choosing to ignore her inquiry for information, the Doctor turned his attentions back to the Count who was quietly surveying their exchange from his position at the table. "This is all _your _fault," he told the vampire icily, "You're the one putting all these thoughts into her head. You're trying to turn her against me!"

Dracula grinned back at him, but it was Rose who answered.

"No, Doctor."

She prompted him to look back at her with the sudden hopeless tone of her voice. She fixed him with an expression that was so fierce and fragile at the same time that the Doctor had no idea what her next action would be.

She took a deep breath as she took a step away from him. The step was small, but the distance between them felt significantly further.

"You're doing that all by yourself," she stated simply before turning on her heel and heading out the door.

He listened as her footsteps grew fainter and fainter on the stone flooring in the hallway. Finally, Rose was fully out of earshot and the Doctor was left alone with a very intrigued vampire observing him.

"Interesting," Dracula remarked, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

"Enjoyed that, did you?" the Doctor asked the Count quietly, still staring at the door, "Playing on her insecurities like that, taking advantage of her most private thoughts. I bet you were having a right laugh."

The smirk became a full-blown malicious smile on the Count's lips. "To a certain extent," he admitted shamelessly. Then his face became pensive as he stood up and started pacing towards the Time Lord, "What was interesting about my little behavioural experiment, however, had more to do with you, Doctor."

The Doctor frowned as he turned to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," the vampire was drawing ever nearer; a lion stalking its prey, "One would think—or rather, _you_ certainly would—that my looking into Rose's psyche was for the benefit of finding methods by which I would be able to draw her in. Make her my own, if you will."

The Doctor's fists clenched instinctively at this. "And that wasn't the reason, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as level as he could.

Dracula continued his pacing, moving in a slow trek around the room. Tightening the circles in which he moved around the Doctor ever so slightly. "Initially it was," he conceded, "At first glance, I merely saw the opportunity to include another beauty to my collection," the Doctor frowned in disapproval, but the Count didn't seem to acknowledge this. "But then, when I looked inside your mind, everything changed."

The bad feeling in the pit of the Doctor's stomach doubled.

"What did you see?" he asked warily.

The Count smiled. It was a smile filled with wonder, awe—lust.

"I saw _her_," he said, and for a moment the reverence in Dracula's voice reminded the Doctor of the way in which Ana had spoken about the vampire earlier, "Oh, I only caught a glimpse of it, seeing as you are so very good at erecting the appropriate barriers in your mind, but saw it I did."

His eyes betrayed that he had transported himself to the scene of his description, seeing its majesty as though he were in the process of living the memory himself.

"A creature with the face of a girl and eyes that burnt like the sun," he continued without pause, "Rose, a mere human to the outside observer, with boundless knowledge untold. And so much _power_…" he trailed off, completely swept away by the glorious image.

"She's not like that anymore," the Doctor told him with conviction, "I took all that power and knowledge out of her."

"And what a pity that is," the vampire said rather sadly, his pacing having displaced him to the other side of the room. A cunning glint appeared in his eyes, "But, Doctor, you know as well as I that she is far from human. You may have removed the cause, but not the symptom."

He wasn't making any sense, the Doctor decided. He watched suspiciously as the Count halted his pacing, concluding the tightest of the circles he had moved in to come to a stop right in front of the Time Lord.

"Wasteful," Dracula told him in an admonishing tone, "That is what you are being, Doctor. Wasting all that residual energy for the sake of retaining something as flimsy as _mortality_," he said the last word as though it was some repulsive curse. "Foolish are the actions of a man blinded by love."

The Doctor ignored the remark. "She's not capable of containing that amount of power," he said darkly, "It would kill her in a matter of minutes."

"Would it?" Dracula challenged, moving closer to the other man, "Would it really, Time Lord? Or perhaps, you are in truth afraid of the possibility that it _wouldn't_."

"Don't," the Doctor said flatly, his face turning menacing, "Don't even _try."_

The Count smiled then. An easy, victorious smile.

"Oh, but Doctor," he replied triumphantly, "I already have."

As if on cue, Rose's scream rang out in the distance.


	23. Episode 2 Part 7

**Author's note: Loooong chapter :D**

**...**

She didn't understand what exactly it was that she was about to do.

Rose had been walking—well, stalking, really—down the long corridor only a few minutes prior.

She'd just been so _angry_. Angry at the world, angry at herself, angry at _him_…

_How dare he! _She kept on thinking. How _dare_ he do this to her! How dare he be so jealous and possessive and callous towards her! How dare he try to dictate her life and her actions, just because he said that he _cared_! How dare he deem her too _worthless_ to even—even—

She'd stopped then, a frown making itself known on her brow.

The Doctor would never call her worthless. She couldn't believe that she could have even thought that he would. However much he _did _care for her, no matter in what way it was, of that one, simple fact she was absolutely certain.

The Doctor would never, ever think that she wasn't worth anything.

She'd shaken her head furiously as the revelation gave her a moment of much-needed clarity. It was like a light at the end of the tunnel.

Why was she so angry? It didn't make any sense. She was hardly the type to rage for no apparent reason.

Especially not with _this _type of anger. She'd never in her life felt such a deep, dark abyss of destruction running through her. All she wanted to do—and she couldn't believe that she was even thinking this—was _hurt _someone.

Hurt _him_.

And now here she stood, completely uncertain of anything she was feeling. Completely unwilling to trust any of her thoughts. Because, if she'd learnt one thing from these years in which she'd travelled with the Doctor, it was this:

People, in any shape or form, were capable of anything.

And that included controlling one's thoughts.

The clarity was short-lived. In the time it took to take a breath after having received this epiphany, Rose was once again struck with a completely disarming and dominating thought.

_You are cold_.

And she was, she suddenly realised. She was _very_ cold. Even the thick fabric of her dress couldn't seem to keep the warmth in.

Rose lifted her hands to rub against her arms, hoping that the friction would create some sort of change in the rapidly-falling state of her body temperature. She stopped the rubbing for a moment to notice that her fingernails had turned a deathly hue of blue. Had there been a mirror anywhere nearby, she would have probably noticed that her lips had followed suit.

She looked around as an instinctual desperation came over her. She was going to freeze, her body screamed. It was going to shut down at any moment if she didn't find some way to warm it up.

That was when she saw her saviour in disguise.

The sun!

The sun was shining!

It was nature's most fundamental source of warmth. Surely it would do an efficient job of heating her up as well. That wouldn't be too difficult for it, now would it?

No, Rose decided. It most certainly wouldn't.

There was a large window waiting right in front of her. Once again, the wrought-iron fixtures that surrounded it and the way it arched up high into the ceiling above wasn't particularly to her taste, but it would most certainly do for letting the light in.

She rushed over and her clumsy fingers, stiff from the cold, fumbled with the thick velvet draperies that hid her treasure. Finally, her hands seemed to find a gap between the two sheaths of material. No hesitation came before she pulled the obstruction away and fully exposed herself to the powerful rays of heat from outside.

At first, all she experienced was the pleasant warmth that stole over her as soon as the light fell on her frozen features. She felt relief spread through her as the warmth did, filling her from head to toe.

But then, as the coldness subsided, the heat continued to rise. Not too long and Rose found that she was suddenly uncomfortably warm. Like she had a bad fever.

She decided that it would be best to step away from the heat. If the cold returned while she was in the shadow, she would simply step back out into the sun. Point being, she didn't want any more sunlight. This would suffice.

That was what her mind thought, at least.

Her body didn't seem to agree. The sense of discomfort grew, but there came no reaction from her feet when Rose tried to take a step backwards. None of her limbs would make so much as a move towards what she was ordering them to do in her head. Their only function seemed to be to hold her in place as the uncomfortable heat turned into a burning sensation.

It was only when she felt the first hint of it that she knew that she was in some definite trouble. This had just become something much more than a passive abnormality on her part.

She gave an involuntary whimper as the feeling of getting one's hand burnt on a warm stove tore through her skin. She managed to inch her eyes into getting a view of one of her hands clutching at her forearm.

The skin was turning red and raw right in front of her eyes.

Rose's knowledge of first-aid applications was limited to a one-off night-class she'd gone to with Shareen way-back -when, but she knew what a first-degree burn looked like. She also knew what happened to people who were exposed to heat for even longer periods of time.

If she could just call for help, Rose thought in dismay. All she needed to do was to open her mouth and let loose one good scream. But the muscles in her jaw were just as rigid as the rest of her body.

The smoke started to rise. She smelt it before she saw it, and when she did, some tears broke free from her eyes. They rolled uselessly off her cheeks and onto the floor, doing nothing to staunch the rising fire that was Rose's body.

Was this it?

Was this how she died?

_Oh please_. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting loose a few more tears in the process. _Please don't let this be it._

_I can't do this to him._

And suddenly, as the flames started to engulf her frozen form, one last, impossible ounce of strength sprung forth from that little thought. Whether the strength could be accredited to desperation, or fear, or even love she didn't know, but in that moment Rose found in her the strength to let one, sole scream escape her lips.

It was enough.

Through the pain, she heard the feet as they came running.

"_NO_!" she heard the panicked shout from behind her.

Cool hands gripped her by the arms. It hurt. Everything hurt.

She was vaguely aware of the fact that she had been thrown onto the ground. She was in motion and she guessed that this was an attempt to put out the flames. Her entire body must have been burnt. She was entirely mutilated.

Then she was sitting down, her back supported against something cold and hard. A wall, probably.

"Rose," a voice, low with distress, said somewhere near her face, "Rose, can you hear me?"

With great, great effort, she managed a feeble nod of her head.

"Alright," the voice breathed out, sounding the slightest bit more relaxed at the acknowledgement of this. Then, the voice turning clinical, "Listen Rose, you're in bad shape. You have third-degree burns all over your body and—and the only way that I'm going to be able to help you is if we get you to the TARDIS med-bay."

Rose gave another painful nod. "Please," was all she could rasp.

Another breath was released. This one shaky. "But it's not that easy," he continued and she registered the barest whisper of a touch to her cheek, "And I'm sorry, Rose. I am so, so sorry, but I'm going to have to take you there. Right now."

The realisation of what he was trying to tell her caused her to speak slightly more clearly. "Outside?" she asked slowly, hating the way talking sent pain shooting through her face and down her torso.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

She knew then that he was gathering her up in his arms. She felt his cool touch on her burnt skin and she held onto it as the sweet blackness threatened to overtake her. She wouldn't let it. She knew what lay in wait for her there.

"Not now," she heard him say flatly, "You just stay out of my way."

"Oh, not to worry, my dear Doctor," the Count's lulling voice sounded, "I am merely here to see you out and bid you a good day for the time being."

When the Doctor answered, his voice was reminiscent of a time in which he'd proclaimed "no second chances".

"After I've helped Rose and gotten those other girls out from under your claws, I'm going to make you pay for this."

It wasn't a threat.

They were walking again. Rose got the distinct impression that the Doctor's anxiety was slowly rising with every step he took. He continued to move faster and faster, but Rose was aware of the fact that he was still making a conscious attempt to jostle her as little as possible through his movements. As it were, it wouldn't have made a difference if he did. Every part of her was screaming in agony either way.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to her again as they abruptly came to a halt.

She knew what was coming next, but it in no way served to lighten her load. The doors leading to the outside of the castle were flung open and both Doctor and companion were hit with an encompassing dose of sunlight.

All Rose could do in her weak state was gasp in pain as the burning picked up where it had left off.

"I moved the TARDIS closer to the castle just before I went there with Dracula," he explained through laboured breaths as he put in an effort to run as fast as his legs would allow him to. "Thought I'd brought it near enough at the time. Didn't want it too close to everything that was happening 'round here." At this he gave a humourless laugh.

"S'not—your fault," Rose breathed, watching as the smoke started rising from her skin afresh. Soon she was going to be a pile of ash.

"'Course it is," the Doctor murmured through gritted teeth. His running slowed slightly, "Here we are."

Rose listened to his near-frantic movements as he rammed the TARDIS key into its lock and flung the door open. Almost immediately, the TARDIS's soothing presence surrounded them both, sending a message of reassurance and comfort to them. Letting them know that they were safe and home.

The Doctor didn't allow the message to comfort him. He all but ran down a long, winding corridor and found the med-bay on the first try. The TARDIS was trying just as hard to help Rose as he was.

"Thank you," Rose heard him mutter to the ceiling before carrying her inside and placing her on a flat yet comfortable surface. The light in the room was of the stark-white variety, but she quickly noticed that the burning had not been furthered because of this.

In fact, the burning had stopped completely.

So had the pain.

"What'd you give me?" she muttered as intelligibly as she could, trying to turn her head to where the Doctor stood.

"Hmm?" his face came into view, and for the first time Rose detected the wild desperation that lay there. He frowned at her. "I haven't given you anything yet."

With a sense of satisfaction, Rose managed to lift her head a little. "The pain's gone," she told him softly. To her surprise, the words also came out slightly clearer than she had thought they would.

She watched as the Time Lord's eyes flicked downwards and up over her body. When their eyes met again, his were clouded with a new kind of worry. "Your burns are healing," he told her.

Rose felt her brow furrowing. The pain of the action quickly had her smoothing it out again, but her incomprehensive state still remained unwavering. "How's that even pos—"

Another bout of energy blew through her, this one containing enough to give her the strength to lift her hand and witness the strange situation firsthand. Her hand was still completely raw and, quite frankly, made her stomach turn slightly at the sight of it, but it was definitely not the kind of burn one got from being on fire for minutes on end.

"Your skin cells are regenerating," he told her quietly.

Rose looked up only to see that the Doctor was glancing away guiltily. His words and his actions once again weren't being cohesive.

"But that's good, yeah?" she asked him slowly. Now that she had an awareness of it, the strength seemed to be returning to her at an even faster pace. She was even contemplating sitting upright in a few moments' time.

The Doctor looked back at her and answered honestly. "I'm—not sure."

Rose looked at him questioningly.

He sighed. "Rose, you were dying just a few minutes ago. And rightly so, since you'd literally been burnt alive," the expression on his face told her that he fully blamed himself for this. He was mentally beating himself up over it.

"It wasn't your fault, Doctor," she told him again.

It was clear that he didn't believe her in the slightest.

"So, why exactly are my cells regenerating so quickly?" she changed the subject. To her delight, she managed to prop herself up into a semi-sitting position with her hands, even though it still hurt like hell to do this.

He turned his back to her under the pretence that he was fiddling with the microscope on the table behind him. She knew that he was just hiding his guilt-ridden face from her, though. "No idea," he said, "I'm guessing that it must be as a result of the mutated cells in your system because of what Dracula did when he—" he let the sentence hang, and Rose saw the swift clenching of his fists.

"Anyway," he turned back to her, putting on his glasses, "I'd have to do a full scan to be completely certain."

"Okay," she agreed immediately.

The Doctor gave her a look that meant that there was more to the request than that. And that she wasn't going to like the rest of it. He turned back to the table and procured a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "And I need you to get some rest in the meantime," he told her seriously.

Rose scrutinised him for a moment, sizing up the needle with stubborn ire. But, realising the gravity of the situation, she finally gave a relenting sigh.

"Okay," she said, holding out her arm.

…

The Doctor halted his nervously tapping foot.

She was alright, he told himself. He'd just seen it for himself fifteen minutes ago. She'd been fine every single time he'd gone to check in the past hour. She was sleeping peacefully and her burns were healing well.

But the fact still remained that she almost died today. _Again_.

At this the Doctor halted his work completely. He was in the lab, trying his level best to analyse the results of Rose's sc ans. Trying to file away the other thoughts pounding away at his brain as he would normally do.

He tugged at his hair, frustrated, kicking his chair out a few inches from underneath the desk he was working on.

_What was wrong with him_?!

He knew exactly how agonising an experience losing her was, yet still he continued to place her in these compromising positions.

Not that he could have known that this would have come out of their little joy-ride to Transylvania, but he should have gotten them out of there the moment he'd realised that Dracula showed any remote interest in her. Should have never left her alone in a separate wing of the castle when he knew that the possibility of her falling prey to the vampire was so high. Should have never let her walk away from him in the dining room after finding out that the Count had such a strong grip on her mind…

Should've, could've, would've. The point was that he hadn't done any of those things. That was what had landed them in this situation. Now all he could do was damage control.

Rose could have died today, but she _hadn't_.

His job at the moment was to find out why that was.

…

"It doesn't make any sense!" he growled under his breath.

Another unsuccessful hour of monitoring the results of Rose's scans had passed. Just like the hour before, nothing was coming of the Doctor's work.

He ground his teeth together.

She would be waking up soon, he knew. And because she was Rose, she'd be wanting answers as soon as her eyes were open. It was one of the many things he found so brilliant about her; that unwavering thirst for knowledge that she had—

But not when he was trying to keep those answers from her.

No. Wait. That wasn't precisely what he was doing.

It wasn't that he was specifically trying to _hide_ anything from her (at least pertaining to this particular matter), he was just ensuring that conclusions weren't prematurely reached by the communication of inconclusive theories.

She didn't need unnecessary burdening with things that hadn't even been proven yet. That probably never even would be.

Because, obviously, the mere notion was absolutely obscene.

He looked down at the scan results again.

Scans had detected that there were, as he'd predicted, alien cells in her system. They were wreaking havoc in her left right and centre, attempting to slowly convert the other cells in her body. The epidermis cells had been the first to have been reached by the foreign objects, hence Rose's extreme sensitivity to natural light.

But then an abnormality had occurred, and in the back of his mind the Doctor had known it would. The foreign cells had halted their infiltration completely and, instead, Rose's own cells had started converting them _back_. Not only that, but the cells were also rebuilding, repairing and renewing any and all damage that had been caused in the foreign cells' wake.

That was a rather normal thing for the human body to do, actually. It was just a natural defence mechanism to protect a body from harm.

But never, in almost a thousand years, had the Doctor seen a human heal and defend herself so quickly of her own accord.

And, all big words aside, right there was the real reason he wasn't rushing to Rose's side to inform her of his findings. He knew all too well why her body was reacting the way it was. It had taken a psychotic vampire for him to realise, but now he knew.

It was Bad Wolf.

"Doctor?"

He turned around in surprise, hands still tugging at his hair, when he saw the blonde head poking timidly through the doorway to the lab.

She bit her lip uncertainly, for a moment hesitant to enter the room. It wasn't that she usually walked on eggshells like this in the TARDIS—by this time the ship was just as much her home as it was the Doctor's—but she'd always felt a certain apprehension towards entering the laboratory. When the Doctor was in here, he usually wanted to be left alone. Many a row between them had ended with the Time Lord storming off into this very room, slamming the very door she was standing next to shut behind him—old regeneration and new.

It was his space as much as her room was hers. She felt a little like an intruder.

"You're supposed to be resting," the Doctor admonished softly, taking in her appearance. He'd gotten her changed into a hospital gown earlier (though the sight of her in it brought back more than a few unpleasant New Earth memories) and he was pleased to see that her previously charred skin was looking healthy and only slightly pink.

Noticing his staring, Rose gave a small smile. "I was looking a bit worse for wear earlier, wasn't I?"

The Doctor almost laughed outright at the, and he had every right to say it, understatement of the century, but finally just settled on returning her smile. "You're better now, that's what's important."

"Yeah," Rose said, her eyes shifting slightly to the side and a small crease forming between her brows. The Doctor was just about to ask her if she was alright when she looked up again and a familiar spark of curiosity appeared in her eyes. "So, you find anything yet?"

And there it was.

"Oh, this and that," he answered nonchalantly, doing a little lean-back in his chair for effect. "Not much in the way of anything conclusive."

Rose looked sceptical. "You didn't find anything?" she asked him again.

She was scrutinising him. He could feel it.

Rose had a way of doing that without making it overtly apparent. And were it anyone other than him she was turning that inquisitive gaze on, anyone who didn't know Rose Marion Tyler well enough to know the little tricks that would throw her off—well, she would most probably have discerned his every thought within the minute.

"Nope," he popped the "p" lightly and went about changing the subject at a lightning-fast pace, "How are you feeling?"

Rose knew what he was doing. And he knew that she knew what he was doing. But, as was usually the case, they dropped it. He wasn't completely in the clear, but the promise Rose held in her eyes of the talk they'd have later at least gave him some time to fabricate something to tell her.

"I feel fine, actually," she told him. The crease in her brow reappeared, "And that's not normal. Why am I feeling fine when I should be dead, exactly?"

So maybe she wasn't dropping it this go around, then.

"I told you that it was as a result of the mutated cells—"

"Yeah, you did say that," Rose interrupted him.

Something of an uneasiness spread through the Doctor as he truly saw the expression on Rose's face for the first time. It wasn't blatantly there on the surface, but beneath her calm exterior he could finally see that she'd reached the end of her rope. With him.

"But see, Doctor," Rose, emboldened, took a step into the laboratory, "I've just about had enough of you _telling _me things when you actually _mean _something completely different. And, quite frankly, I think I may deserve at least a tiny shred of truth after today. After being kidnapped, and bitten, and brainwashed, and _burnt alive_—I think I'm due a little bit of honesty."

The Doctor flinched. "Rose, I'm so sorry," he murmured and for an instance he really, truly hated himself for continuously putting Rose through what he did. Especially considering that he was at his happiest when she was happy.

Rose must have seen the self-loathing siphon into his gaze, because the next moment she walked into the room fully, all her trepidation forgotten, and enveloped him in a soft hug.

"You shouldn't be," she spoke into his chest as he rested his chin on her crown, "Even if I die tomorrow, you should never be sorry for being the one who pulled me into this mad, terrible, brilliant world of yours."

His arms tightened around her at the words and he knew that she didn't understand how much what she'd just said really meant to him. Or how much it scared him.

When she pulled back a little her face was serious. "But that doesn't change the fact that I want to know what the hell is going on with you."

And at that moment, thankfully, the TARDIS decided to save her Doctor an explanation by giving a massive lurch.

Rose, still clinging to the Doctor, felt her feet being knocked out from under her. The shift in their weight as Rose toppled to the floor caused the Doctor to lose his balance, pulling him down with her. On the cold tiles, the two barely noticed their position on top of each other before the world around them started shaking violently.

"What's happened?!" she asked in alarm, pushing him off her in order to sit up.

The Doctor fixed her with a worried expression before promptly pulling both of them into a standing position. He was about to set course for the console room, Rose in tow, when she dug her heels into the floor.

"Come on!" he called impatiently, already sprinting ahead of her.

"Not until I'm dressed in some proper clothes!" Rose returned, swiftly heading in the opposite direction to her bedroom.

Clad in a fresh jumper, denims and trainers, Rose found the Doctor running around the console and looking all the mad scientist she sometimes imagined him to be five minutes later. She hadn't even bothered trying to freshen up her makeup as well, seeing as she could barely remain on her feet the entire time she was busy getting dressed.

"Found anything yet?!" Rose called above the din of the cloister bell.

"Getting close!" he answered, never faltering in his running about, "Just one more touch—HA!" He gave a triumphant grin as he flipped a switch and the time machine steadied the slightest bit. "Found the problem. It's a temporal disturbance. She's trying to shake it off, but it's—"

And then the smile swiftly fell from his face as he took in the words on the scanner.

"It's what?" Rose asked, inching closer to him by supporting herself on a coral pillar.

"It's—" he looked up and for a fraction of a second Rose saw pure, raw terror in his eyes. Then he gave a small shake of his head, covering the look with indifference. "It's nothing. Probably just some residual energy left by a passing Time Agent."

The Doctor didn't wait to see if he'd convinced her (which he hadn't), instead moving around the console once more, pulling levers all the way.

"It's damaging her circuitry," he babbled as he went, "She'll adapt around it eventually, but right now she just needs time to compensate for the excess influx of temporal energy through her stabilisers. That means that she'll have to remain stationary for a certain period of time."

He stopped for a moment and looked at her with an intensity that caused her heart to beat a little faster. "And _that _means that this may be my only chance—"

He twisted a final knob and suddenly the room around them stilled. The absence of the ringing cloister bells caused a deathly silence to fall between the Doctor and Rose.

The former moved out from his position behind the console and fully into Rose's line of sight. As his eyes fell on the door to the outside, a familiar expression fixed itself on his face.

"We're here," he said, and suddenly his voice was strangely detached.

Rose felt a shiver of apprehension run up her spine as she realised that he was avoiding her gaze.

"Where?" she asked warily.

He didn't answer her. All he did was give a small nod in the direction of the door, telling her to open it.

Rose could feel it; a sudden choking feeling rising in her throat. As she moved to open the door, her fingers felt strangely numb.

The door swung open and it was work not to have her knees give out underneath her as she took in what lay on the other side. She looked out blankly into the night; at the large building that loomed in front of her, at the floor on which she knew her mother's flat would be.

"You're home," she heard him say behind her.


	24. Episode 2 Part 8

"I'm home," she repeated. She was surprised at how level and calm she sounded.

"Yep," he said, a false note of cheer in his voice, "Safe and sound."

"End of the line," she murmured.

This was the only option, the Doctor had decided. His first priority was keeping Rose safe, and he would do that at practically any cost.

He'd connected the dots when he'd seen the scanner. He'd finally seen, finally understood just what he'd done. And that had been the final straw in the end. This trip had been a massive mistake.

In his contemplations, he didn't even notice the way that Rose was steeling herself for heartbreak. Slowly erecting the appropriate barriers between her and the man she loved so the pain that would inevitably follow would be dampened.

"And I take it," she continued, her composure holding, "That you didn't bring us here for the TARDIS to recuperate?"

"No," the Doctor confirmed.

"And," she gave an almost inaudible swallow, "You're probably not staying either?"

"I have to get back to help those girls," he told her seriously.

Rose just nodded.

So it was going to be that way, then. He wasn't one for grand goodbyes. She understood that. He no doubt wanted to spare himself the sadness of losing more company. He'd just lost so many already. He probably had his reasons. She should just get it over with to spare him his feelings.

And Dracula had known, the Doctor fretted further, still not realising that Rose was now holding back tears. The vampire had realised how powerful she was with just a glance. Telling Rose to burn hadn't been some psychotic whim on the Count's part, it had been calculated. Another behavioural experiment. If the Doctor took Rose back now and Dracula saw her, the vampire would realise that his experiment had proved successful. She was radiating pure _power_. And it was wrong.

Even the TARDIS could feel it.

He needed her to lay low. He needed to be sure that she was safe and out of the way so that he could address more present dangers. Those young girls were still in the Count's clutches, under his spell—the Doctor had no doubt in his mind that Dracula would use them as leverage to get just what he wanted.

"Alright then," Rose said slowly, not wanting to stretch the agony out any longer than she had to, "I suppose I'll just—go, then."

The Doctor nodded. "Just to be safe," he told her, "The vampire cells haven't left your body completely yet, so you'll have to stay inside for a few days. Until the colour returns to your cheeks." He gave a small, soft smile.

Rose gritted her teeth to stop the tears from springing free. He had no right to still smile at her like that. Not when she now knew that nothing would ever come of it. Without another word she turned and took a step towards the door.

Then she turned back around. She just _couldn't _leave it there.

The tears had been falling the moment she'd turned her back and she knew that it would do no good to try to stop them at this late stage. Instead she just pretended that they weren't there.

Finally, the Doctor noticed. The smile turned into a look of concern.

"Rose? What's wrong?" he asked anxiously, his mind immediately jumping to the temporal energy and any discomfort it may be causing her.

Rose gave a laugh at his idiotic question, but made no move to answer it.

"Could you—" she clenched her fists and tried to retain her resolve, "could you just tell me what it was that I did wrong?"

The Doctor frowned at her. "You didn't do anything wrong," he told her earnestly. If anyone was to blame in this situation, it was him.

Rose gave a huff of frustration. "So, what is it then, if it isn't me?" she asked, trying to keep the small note of hysteria from her voice. She didn't want to part with him on bad terms, but she didn't just want him to disappear, either. She knew that it was naïve, and presumptuous, and so, so _human_, but she just wanted to know _why._

If anything, the Doctor just seemed more confused by her question.

"Of course it isn't you, Rose. If all of this is anyone's fault, it's—"

"Oh god, don't even say it," Rose said, giving another incredulous laugh, "Don't you _dare_ try using 'it's not you, it's me' on me," she shook her head and laughed again, "Don't you dare."

He didn't know how to make heads or tails of the conversation they were having. "Rose, what's gotten into you?"

That set her off.

"What's gotten into me? _What's gotten into me?!_" she threw her hands in the air hopelessly, "You know, I should've asked myself that same question when I decided to just up and leave everything I knew behind one day to follow some daft alien to the backwaters of the universe!"

The Doctor looked at her in shock, but made no move to interrupt. For once, he wished that Rose was under the Count's control, because at least then she'd been manipulated into screaming at him. This was pure, furious Rose.

"And believe me, I never asked to feel about you the way I do!" she continued shouting, "I pushed it down for longer than I cared to count! But then you, you stupid git, you go and _die_ for me, and of course that cinched it! After that, there was no going back. And I didn't even care anymore, because just being near you was enough!"

When he'd decided that he'd had enough of her crying, the Doctor started moving forward to do something, _anything_ to comfort her, but she held up a hand signalling that her rant was far from over.

"And now I'm not even going to have that," she said quietly, "Now I can't even see you anymore. And that's fine. If that's what you want, then fine. I'm tough. I'll survive. But, before you leave, before you disappear like some mad, brilliant dream—please, just—_please_ tell me why."

He was utterly stunned.

"To keep you safe," he answered immediately.

Evidently that wasn't the right answer.

"_Oh_, that makes sense!" she cried, her sarcasm marred by her elevated state of dismay, "_Of course_ you would say that! But guess what, Doctor? Guess what—I am _still_ going to die even if you do manage to keep me in a little glass case for the rest of my life. I am! And soon, too! Fifty years, sixty, I'll be shuffling off this mortal coil, same as all the rest! Not even you, mighty Time Lord that you are, can do anything about it!"

He flinched again, like he'd received a blow. He hated it when she rehashed her all too fleeting mortality.

But he also knew that she was right.

"Exactly," he told her quietly, moving forward and grasping her hands tightly even when she tried to pull away, "Exactly, Rose. And it's terrifying, knowing that you have that little time. It goes by in the blink of an eye, and after it has—" he looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to her with steely resolve, "This is me trying not to cut it any shorter than it already is. And I am asking you, _begging_ you—just this once— see it my way."

He'd expected that his words would have an effect on her. What he didn't expect was precisely what that effect would be.

Because, the moment he'd made his plea, Rose's face suddenly became smooth and unreadable. Her eyes cold.

She extricated her hands from his grasp.

"You know," she said in a strangely hollow voice, "When Dracula was in my mind making me say all those things to you, I thought that that irrational fear I felt at that moment, that—that knowledge that you would eventually just abandon me one day—I thought that it was his doing," she closed her eyes, clenching her fists, "But it wasn't."

Then her eyes opened, throwing daggers at him. "It was _yours_."

He stared at her blankly, too afraid to think of what might happen next.

"And that isn't good for me," she continued steadily, "I realise that now. So, to spare you the trouble of losing me—_again_, whatever that means—I'll leave," she nodded to herself, "Yeah, that's probably best. I have friends here, got Mum to think about—I've got a life, Doctor, and I've been neglecting it. I should be getting back to the real world."

The Doctor stood, numb to his surroundings, not quite processing what he was being told. Was she really doing what he thought she was doing? Was she really just leaving?

But—but she couldn't. She couldn't just _leave_.

She'd promised.

He watched as she turned and stepped out of the TARDIS. She kept walking for the longest time. Or maybe it was only a few seconds. He couldn't say that time really mattered at this point.

A slight distance away, she stopped. She looked at him over her shoulder. He hoped that the nightmare was coming to an end. He hoped that she would tell him that she was just angry with him, that he could still come back for her in a few days' time.

But she didn't.

All she said was:

"Have a good life, Doctor."

And that was how he knew that it was all over.


	25. Episode 2 Part 9

The Doctor muttered all manner of equations, scientific theories and philosophical debates to himself as he watched the steady movement of the time rotor. He stood, half-heartedly pulling stabilising levers as he piloted the TARDIS through the vortex. Back to the village. Back to problems that he stood some sort of chance solving.

As the emptiness and the silence and the distractions rang loudly in his ears, the Doctor _most certainly_ didn't ponder his personal circumstances.

Nope.

Alone with that big Time Lord brain of his, _not one solitary_ thought lingered on the fact that he had just unintentionally cocked up one of the very few good things in his life. Nowhere in his mind was he replaying the painful images of a certain blonde walking away from him. Abandoning him to his own devices…

Suddenly, the Doctor was startled from his pondering by a loud bang that echoed through the room. A split second later, a blossoming pain in his right hand alerted him to the cause of the bang. The TARDIS heaved a disgruntled groan at having received the blow to her console.

"Sorry, old girl," he muttered, patting the console softly with the offending hand.

Then he heaved a sigh, throwing his eyes to the ceiling.

"Sorry," he apologised again, shaking his head heavily and scrubbing a hand down his face, "I just can't seem to get things right with either of you two."

The TARDIS groaned once more, this time releasing a softer, more affectionate sound. The Doctor's mind was filled with an overwhelming sense of sympathy, followed by a strong reassurance.

_She'll come back_, the sensation translated.

At this he gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, not so sure if that's a good thing," he said into the empty room, probably looking all the mad man most people thought him to be.

Another mental message.

_Tell her_, it said.

Before he could respond, the TARDIS landed with a small jolt. The Doctor gratefully took this as an opportunity to escape his, at the moment, overly chatty ship.

As he stepped out into the early morning sunlight of the small town he and Rose had initially landed in, the Doctor found himself eager to do _something_. At times in his life when things would look particularly grim, he found that finding a situation in which he could exert a certain amount of control usually served as at least a temporary remedy.

He would focus on more difficult tasks later.

He spotted Father Dorin rushing over to him as his eyes adjusted to the stark light. "Ah, Doctor!" the clergyman greeted, grasping one of the Doctor's hands in both of his as a greeting, "Glad to see that you survived the night," he looked over his shoulder curiously for a moment before meeting his eyes again, "Did you manage to find your companion?"

The Doctor's eyes became hard as he realised what he would have to do. If he was really going to keep Rose safe, he was going to have to keep her true fate a secret. The Count couldn't be alerted of the fact that his experiment had been successful, and the Doctor had no way of knowing who was under the vampire's compulsion. No way of knowing how many eyes were following his every word and action.

"She's gone," he said in a hard voice, ignoring the pain just saying the words caused him.

Father Dorin's eyes widened. "Oh my," he said quietly, touching the cross that hung around his neck, "Oh, Doctor, I am so sorry. Blessed be her soul."

The Doctor just nodded with lips pulled into a tight line, hating this new game of pretend and keeping his mind firmly from straying to thoughts of the hospital.

"May I ask what happened?" the clergyman inquired not unkindly.

The Doctor didn't need to feign the cold fury that filled his eyes as he answered. "The demon," he said curtly. He suddenly snapped into business mode at this, looking down at the now nervous-looking Father Dorin, "I'm going to put a stop to this. All of this. How fast can you call a town meeting?"

…

The answer to the Doctor's question was two hours.

He watched quietly from his position at the head of the room, a barn that served as the only place big enough for a meeting such as this, flanked by Father Dorin to his right and Felix to his left. He looked over the people—men, women, children—filing in and taking their seats, all of them looking so normal. All of them potential spies for the Count.

The chatter died down as Felix stepped forwards to address the townspeople.

"It is something that has haunted our town for generations," he started, staring down each member of the large crowd in front of him, "It has touched all of our lives in some way. Whether it is through the absence of a mother, a sister, a cousin or a daughter, we have all felt the sting of the pain that this thing has inflicted on us," he paused again, "The demon."

As the words were said, a rustle of unease spread through the crowd. People shifted closer to one another and parents gripped their children just a little more tightly. But, the Doctor noted with a small smirk, no one ran.

Humans never ceased to amaze him with their bravery.

"And now a decision has been made," Felix continued, his voice gaining some strength, "We will no longer stand for this. We will no longer lay down the lives of our loved ones at the feet of this creature. We will take a stand. We will fight!"

Some cheers erupted from the crowd, but for the most part only disgruntled groans were heard.

"And what difference will this revelation make, then?" a woman shouted from the front of the crowd, "We already go out every night, walk around for hours in the name of protecting this town and our loved ones. And every night that we're out there, we find nothing. Just more women missing. What makes you think that it'll make any difference if we fight?"

Her words were met with angered shouts of agreement—which led to more complaints being shouted at the town head. Not a few minutes passed before everyone was on their feet, hurling insults to and fro and causing general uproar.

The Doctor took this as his opportunity to take centre stage. He moved forward, lifting up his hands. "Alright now," he told the rampaging people, "Quiet down."

No one, of course, was listening.

"Just—can everyone be quiet for a moment," he called again, to no avail, "Can everyone please—if you'll please just—just listen for one moment—alright—SHUT UP!"

His final words rang with authority through the room, causing a miraculous silence to befall every single person in his field of vision. Within the course of a few moments, the riot had stopped completely, everyone eyeing the newcomer with wary expectancy.

Felix raised his eyebrows. "Well done," he told the Doctor, "First time I've seen someone manage something like that with them. Should have you around for town meetings more often."

The Doctor looked out over the people solemnly, seeing the terror that was so plainly etched into each individual's features.

"I'm the Doctor," he told them, "Some of you met me the other night." He held their gazes steadily. "I know that you're scared. You've every right to be. This demon, he's been hitting you all where it hurts. Not only has he made you afraid of the dark, afraid to even move around in your own town freely, he's also threatened and taken the people you love. I know how that feels."

He allowed his thoughts to drift to Rose, hurt and violated because of the Count. The rage that the thoughts filled him with only served to fuel the fires of his determination as he spoke again: "But hear this: They have a name for me out there. They call me the Oncoming Storm. They call me that, because if I say something stops, it _stops_."

His voice rose in volume and power, and when he said his final words, it was directly to the old vampire watching from his castle. "It's coming for you, Dracula. The consequences of everything that you've done over the years, everyone you've manipulated—they're catching up with you. Not long now," he looked into the crowd's eyes intently, "Your move, Count."

…

Sitting comfortably in a chair in his study, the Count looked on as the infuriated Time Lord gave his speech, so sure that it would shake the age-old vampire. So sure that he had the upper hand…

He smiled at that.


	26. Episode 2 Part 10

Oh, this was _so _stupid.

Stupid and daft and so—so—

_Human._

The Doctor tried talking himself out of what he was doing for the tenth time. Just as the nine times before, however, the dominant part of his mind—the part that was completely besotted—immediately took over, prompting him to dial her number from the TARDIS console once more.

The rational part of his brain quickly chimed in with the plan as the phone rang on the other side, reassuring him that he was merely calling to check if the vampire cells had exited her system as of late. _Not_ to beg her to come back.

Unfortunately, rationality also only went so far, and constantly he had to remind himself that having her back with him _right at this moment_ would be counterproductive, anyway. He was still keeping up the guise that the Count's experiment had failed, after all. Her safety was more important than his needs.

Plus he was stuck here while the TARDIS recuperated. That plan would never have worked in the first place.

Also like with the nine times before, disappointment washed over him as the only voice that greeted the Doctor on the other side of the line was that of a younger Rose, cheerfully informing him that he should leave a message.

Despite himself, he grinned at the sound of her voice. It didn't sound as though she could have been much older than fourteen or fifteen at the time the message was recorded, but the joy evident in it was familiar.

He missed it.

Right then, he thought with finality. That was enough of that. Either Rose was avoiding him (very likely) or she'd lost her phone again (also likely).

_Or_…

Or—she wasn't able to answer her phone. Why wouldn't she be able to answer her phone? Was something wrong with her? Did something go wrong with the vampire cells? What if she'd been exposed to too much sunlight again?

Rassilon, what if it was Bad Wolf?

And quick as that, he was punching numbers into the console again. Fine then, he thought. If she wasn't going to answer her cell, he'd just have to reach her at home.

The phone rang for about two beats before someone on the other side picked up.

The Doctor breathed out a sigh of relief. See? Nothing to worry about.

"Rose—" he started.

"And what gives you the right to harass my daughter day and night, you big alien prat?!"

Oh. That wasn't Rose.

"Jackie," the Doctor greeted, his voice shooting up a few octaves in surprise, "Listen, I need—"

"No," Jackie cut him off, "_You _listen. You leave her here, contaminated with _God knows what_, heartbroken and with instructions that she has to stay inside indefinitely or otherwise be burnt to a crisp—_and then _you have the nerve to call her mobile over and over again, sending her into near-fits as she tries not to answer?! _Just who the hell do you think you are?!"_

"I _did not_ leave her," he replied darkly.

"Oh, is that right?" Jackie said sarcastically, "Funny you should say that, 'cause she sure as hell ain't there with you, is she?!"

"Not that it's any business of yours, but _she _left _me_!" he snapped irritably.

She scoffed at this. A proper grunt of a scoff. "Oh, come off it!" she sniped, "Don't you try to play all innocent with me! She told me the whole story, Rose did. How you were cosying up to her the one minute and kicking her out to the curb the next. How you've been hiding things from her for _months_! What kind of a woman do you think would put up with something like that? 'Cause it certainly isn't my Rose!"

"Jackie, you don't understand anything," he said in a low voice, suddenly feeling their circumstances weigh down on him once again. They were just barely hanging in the balance of a very, very delicate situation. If one of the threads were to snap—the Doctor shuddered to think of possible consequences.

"I understand perfectly!" she told him stubbornly, "You're a git and you've just proved it!"

The Doctor knew that she was about to slam the phone in his ear. In a last-ditch effort to get some worthwhile information, he shouted: "Wait! Just hold on a moment! You can be as angry as you want with me, Jackie. I won't even hold it against you—but please, _please _just tell me this; is she alright?"

There was a long, pregnant pause. The Doctor began to wonder if his plea had gone unheard.

"Yeah, I suppose she is," Jackie finally answered, then added, "She says she's always alright."

The Doctor flinched at the words, hearing them echo back in his own voice. He didn't like the fact that she was using that now. It was definitely one of the less brilliant things she'd picked up from being around him.

"She hasn't been acting—strangely lately?" he pressed, "Been particularly forgetful, stopped talking mid-sentence—"

_Mentioned her undying devotion to Count Dracula_, he thought, though he didn't say that. One step (and slap) at a time.

"'Ere, what are you on about?" she asked suspiciously. Then he heard a sharp intake of breath and winced as her shrieking damaged his ear-drum, "_Have you gone and gotten her brain damaged_?!"

"No!" he protested vehemently, thrown off-track by her absurd accusation, "Of course not! Do you really think I'd leave her on her own _for one second_ if I knew that she was injured like that?"

"Well, you _have _abandoned her," she retorted coldly, "I reckon you're full of surprises."

He gave a huff of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Humans. Most stubborn creatures in the universe. _Especially _Tyler-women.

"I'll call you again tomorrow," he resolved to conclude his conversation with the elder Tyler, "Keep a close eye on her, and if anything happens, call me. Just keep me posted."

There was another long pause, which was quickly followed by a relenting sigh.

"Fine," she said.

"Thank you," he replied earnestly before ending the call.

Then he was alone again. The silence stretched far and wide in the console room, giving him more than enough of a berth in which to once again think of the situation at hand.

As far as defeating the Count was concerned, he had made absolutely no leeway today. Like he'd said, humans were stubborn—and nowhere in the universe was a better example of that than in this small, nineteenth-century town that he was currently stuck in.

He'd tried wholeheartedly to convince the townspeople of the fact that the demon, and in extension his victims, were right under their noses, only to be met with avid accusations and ridicule.

"_But you have to believe me_!" he'd shouted at the crowd as the riot started afresh, "_It's Dracula. It's always been him. He's had you all under his spell for years and years!"_

"_But that's exactly what you would say, isn't it?!" _he'd heard someone shout over the ruckus, "_Turning us against one of our own. Who's to say YOU'RE not the demon?!" _

That had _really _set them off. As rightly it should. He'd practically been chased from the conference barn after that. Luckily Father Dorin and Felix had come to his aid, having been faced by this news previously, and had staved off the attack as best they could. They'd still proposed that he dash for safety, though.

The TARDIS was the safest place in the universe. No one was getting attacked in here.

At least not physically.

It had been perhaps thirteen hours since that incident. In the meantime, the Doctor had come up with a few courses of action, at least two of which did not entail running headlong into danger and taking things from there.

Part one, checking on Rose, had already been executed. Now, there was the matter of reaching Dracula, reaching his victims, or both. The former seemed the more logical option.

He stuck his head cautiously out the TARDIS door, surveying the picture that was seemingly identical from the night before. Of course, it wasn't really. Having the jarring worries of his predicament weighing down on him, no excitement for what lay ahead and plans flowing in his head to leg it back to the Powell Estate hitting at the walls of his mind, the picture was nearly unrecognisably different.

By the lack of sound present in the town and the warm lights flooding from windows to illuminate off-hand patches of street, the Doctor judged that mob-duty must have been called off for the night. He sent out a silent thank you to Felix and Father Dorin, who had undoubtedly had a hand in this.

He stepped out onto the street carefully, closing the door to his ship behind him. Then he leaned against said door and waited. He watched as the fog coating his form thickened before his eyes, and listened as footsteps purposefully approached him the next moment.

"You sure all this isn't a bit dramatic?" he remarked, waving a vague hand at his surroundings.

"Oh, but I enjoy indulging in the dramatics of life," Dracula replied as the fog parted to reveal his prone form, "And I have always believed that a shroud of mystery holds a certain appeal, wouldn't you agree?"

The Doctor shrugged, though his casual stance and manner was inhibited by the coldness with which he looked at the Count. "I've never really held mystery in such high regard myself."

Dracula gave a small smirk at this, tilting his head slightly as he sized up the Time Lord. "No," he finally said, "Mystery is merely an obstacle to you, is it not? Though some might say that that holds an appeal all its own."

The Doctor's gaze darkened as his patience ran out. "Where are you keeping those girls, Dracula?"

The vampire ignored this question, instead letting his eyes flicker to the Doctor's side and then to his surroundings. "And where is the lovely Rose this evening?" he asked, only the smallest hint of fervent curiosity appearing on his face, "I hope you do not mind me saying, Doctor, but she has proven herself to be a rather superior source of company." He flashed a predatory grin.

The Count was baiting him, he knew. He tried to school his features before the indignation on his face became too noticeable. "You burnt her alive, remember?" he answered through clenched teeth.

Dracula's face remained blank for about a second at his words, and for a moment the Doctor allowed himself a small piece of satisfaction at having actually surprised the old vampire.

"Oh," the Count said. His face became instantly indifferent, "How unfortunate."

His cool indifference caused some cracks to form in the dam the Doctor had tamped down on his rage. "_Unfortunate_?" he repeated incredulously, "Rose is gone, and you're saying that it's _unfortunate?_ All that talk about how special she was, and now she's gone you can't come up with any more emotion than you would if your neighbour's cat had run away?"

"She was unique," he gave a nonchalant shrug, "But certainly not irreplaceable."

The cracks in the Doctor's restraint widened a bit more. "If there is one thing that I can guarantee you today, Dracula," he said dangerously, "It's that there will _never_, in all of time and space, be someone that could replace Rose Tyler. The fact that you don't even know that just goes to show that you don't really know anything about her."

"Oh, how I grow weary of this irrational love that you harbour for the girl, Doctor," he said in a bored tone, "If her demise is unfortunate, the effect that she has had on your otherwise powerful being is simply tragic."

"My feelings for Rose don't weaken me."

Dracula scrutinised him far more intently than the Doctor was comfortable with. Say what you would about him, but the old vampire did seem to be startlingly perceptive. The Doctor was also beginning to wonder if perhaps the Count's intelligence was rising to rival his own. Not that that was really possible.

Was it?

"You are a passive man," the Count observed, "From what I have seen in your mind and your demeanour in equal parts, I know that you abhor any form of violence. Yet _she_ drives you to it in an instance," he stopped, pursing his lips as if in deep thought, before continuing, "When driven to violence, you act on it. You show lesser beings just how powerful you are when they give you no other choice. Yet _she_ inhibits you from acting on compulsion. Tells you to be merciful and to forgive. Cuts your claws, clips your wings. Makes you a man of empty threats."

"Well then it's a good thing she isn't here to stop me now," the Doctor replied coldly, though uneasiness was spreading wide inside him, "You're trying my patience."

A corner of the vampire's mouth quirked upwards in amusement, and the Doctor thought to himself that that certainly hadn't been the desired effect of his words. The Count still believed himself to be in control, and the Doctor's main concern was the fact that he didn't know the reason for this.

"I suppose that I am," the Count suddenly relented, _"_I apologise for that. As a matter of fact, I apologise for everything. I must insist that you join me for dinner tomorrow evening and grant me the opportunity to make amends."

The Doctor gaped at him for a second before closing his mouth again with an audible click of his teeth. _What? _He thought. This was most likely another game that the Count was playing with him. He shook his head and fixed a smile on his face, serving the ball right back into the vampire's court.

"Alright then," he agreed, "Dinner with the enemy. How could I refuse? No pears, mind. Don't like pears. Too much like apples but— you know—not." The light quality of his voice wavered slightly, "And we'll be discussing the terms of your hostages' release, I hope?"

The Count nodded. "But of course," he said, "I would think it only fair to hear you stake your claims after all that I have inflicted upon you. I will be seeing you, Time Lord."

The Doctor was about to reply, but the next moment the Count had vanished into thin air. He looked around to affirm this, before giving a wry nod that very much said _of course he can do that_.

"Not if I see you first," he muttered into the silent night air, then turning on his heel and striding back into the TARDIS.


	27. Episode 2 Part 11

The Doctor spent the better part of the next day on TARDIS repairs. Of course, what this was really code for, was a very bad distraction.

Quite disappointingly, the distraction wasn't even working properly.

To put it simply, the Doctor was mucking about in the console to heighten its magnetic fielding reserves and thereby disrupting some of the artron energy the TARDIS was putting out. He'd told Rose when his ship had picked up her temporal disturbance that the TARDIS would need time to compensate around the excess influx of energy, but the reason for her need to recuperate had in actuality been her extreme attraction towards Rose.

It was a well-known fact—or at least it had been on Gallifrey—that artron energy in sentient beings had the capacity to improve said beings' reserves for telepathic communication exponentially. These high levels of artron energy in Time Lords had certainly been at fault for the race being so dependent on this particular form of communication.

The problem, however, was this: Rose wasn't a Time Lord. She hadn't been the last time he checked, and he was about 99.67 percent sure that she wasn't now. So why were her artron energy levels so high? So high that she seemed to even possess certain regenerative qualities.

As established earlier, he didn't know anything other than the fact that it had something to do with Bad Wolf. What he did know, though, was that he wasn't going to risk a telepathic attack by the TARDIS—however innocent it may be—when he wasn't one hundred percent certain that her human brain could withstand it.

That brought him to what he was doing now; dampening the flow of artron energy through the TARDIS before he saw her again.

_If_ he saw her again…

He shook his head vigorously and once again tried to return his attentions to the task at hand, which was turning out to be more difficult than he'd estimated. The TARDIS was fighting him. Of course she would. She was screaming into his mind to allow her to strengthen her link with Rose. Saying that she could handle it.

"I'm not risking it," the Doctor told his machine through gritted teeth.

_Believe me_, she told him.

"Can't," he replied shortly, "I can't lose her to something like this."

_Believe in her, then._

He gave a frustrated growl, poking the field reserves once more with his screwdriver. At this the TARDIS heaved something resembling a frustrated huff before obligingly lowering her artron energy levels.

"Thank you," the Doctor said satisfactorily, getting up from his position and grinning at the ceiling.

The TARDIS groaned once more and gave him the equivalent of a mental shove, effectively letting him know that he was far from forgiven.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm being a git," he sighed, rubbing at his head painfully.

The TARDIS made a sound that was most definitely a confirmation.

Checking the time—almost time to meet the Count—the Doctor stepped towards the console monitor and punched in Rose's landline. He wasn't even going to try her mobile this time, knowing full-well that she'd rather be trampled by a herd of elephants than speak to him at the moment.

"What do you want?" Jackie asked sharply when she answered.

"How'd you know it was me?" the Doctor frowned.

"Well, you would call at bloody three in the morning, wouldn't you?!"

"Oh," the Doctor pulled at his ear sheepishly, "Right. Sorry about that."

"Blimey, for someone who goes on about being Time Lord, you don't half know about good timing," she muttered, "Rose is alright, since you're about to ask. Sleeping, mind. As rightly she should be, too."

The Doctor gave a nod at this, ignoring Jackie's snarky tone of voice. "Still nothing strange in her behaviour, then?"

"Nah, she's the same old Rose," she said, before quietly adding, "Doesn't hammer on about you as much as I'm used to, though I should think the reason for that is self-explanatory."

The Doctor felt the familiar choke-hold of guilt gripping him, but quickly suppressed the feeling. The reason for Rose's avoidance was a misunderstanding. He'd realised this, thick genius that he was, later than he should have. She'd only left him, because she'd thought that he was leaving her. He just needed to show her that. She'd forgive him, then—he hoped.

Still—he couldn't help but ask. "Is she—"

"Crying herself to sleep every night? Probably, yeah," Jackie answered his unfinished question in a hard voice, "Although, I suppose I wouldn't really know. She's not actually said much to me about any of it. She's not even at home most of the time."

She paused for a moment. When she spoke again, the underlying desperation in her voice startled him.

"You _are_ coming back, aren't you Doctor? It's been two weeks, and she seems to be—coping, but—I dunno. There's just something about her. Like she's—empty. On the outside she seems fine, but—" she sighed, finally relenting, "I feel as though there's something off."

"And why are you only telling me this now?" he asked in a low voice.

"Didn't think it was any of your business," she echoed his previous words wryly, "Probably just Rose working through her emotions. You should have seen her after Jimmy. She was a right mess."

The Doctor shook his head. "Jackie—" he sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to level with the woman, "I'm right on the brink of cracking this. When I do, I _will _come back. I promise. Please tell her that."

"I will," Jackie agreed, "She won't listen, but I will."

With that she ended the call.

The Doctor sat back on the jump seat and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger. He wasn't going to allow this to worry him. He was already concerned enough as it was. He gave a sniff before pushing off the seat, readying himself to head into the lion's den.

…

"Evening, Ana," he greeted the girl who answered the door to the Count's castle.

Ana glanced around the foyer apprehensively before answering. "Doctor," she said with a timid nod, "The Count is already waiting in the dining hall."

"Lovely," the Doctor remarked, though his tone said that he found this fact anything but.

Ana led him down the long, winding halls of the Count's castle. All the while, the Doctor took in his cold, stone surroundings with disdain. The last time he'd roamed these halls, he'd thought that he was going to lose Rose yet again. He remembered already making contingency plan upon contingency plan; things he would do to bring her back—and things he would do if he couldn't. At one point, his thoughts had gone to a dark place they hadn't been since just after the Time War. The thing that scared him to no end about that situation, however, had been to once again be reminded of how dependant his happiness had become on her well-being.

How was he going to cope when he really lost her one day?

The Count sat on the spot where he had been sitting two days ago (had it really been such a short time ago?). This was the only resemblance that the room bore to the dining hall he'd been in then, though.

This dining hall was lavishly garlanded with rich colours; materials of deep reds, blues and greens adorned every drapable inch of the room. The deep brown dining table was covered with an equally luxurious piece of cloth in a shade of blue that almost seemed black.

But the sight that really sent a jolt of anger through the Doctor were the twenty-odd girls, all pale and sickly-looking, lined up in groups of five against the walls. Each girl bore a tray with some succulent delicacy gleaming in the torchlight atop it.

"When you said that you were a collector, I didn't realise you meant of serving staff," he said darkly.

"Oh, they are merely serving that purpose tonight, Doctor," the Count replied nonchalantly, "I realised that you would most likely insist on their presence, and so I am saving us the argument that would inevitably follow. Won't you take a seat? Your standing is leaving me an unjust host."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," the Doctor remarked sarcastically. He took his seat at the opposite end of the table, also known as the furthest possible point away from the vampire.

The moment his chair had been pushed in, two girls moved forward and placed plates on the table in front of both men. The plates each contained three peculiar spherical shapes soaked in some kind of sauce. Rather discourteously, the Doctor picked one of the balls up, holding it between his forefinger and his thumb. Even more discourteously, he proceeded to bring the piece of food to his face, promptly giving it a lick.

"Ah!" he exclaimed in delight, "_Chiftele marinate!_ Pickled meatballs! Standard Romanian delicacy, lovely!" he dropped the meatball back into his plate, wiping a hand on his coat, "Tastes disgusting, but to gather all the ingredients necessary in nineteenth-century Transylvania—quite a feat!"

The Count gave a small smirk, leaning forward and steeping his fingers in front of him. "I see now why you travel with company," he quipped.

"Oh," the Doctor gave a grin, for once genuine in Dracula's presence, "If my ears don't deceive me, I think that may have been a joke. Reckon I might be a bad influence."

The Count grinned as well. "Quite," he agreed.

Then his joking air disappeared.

"All preamble aside, however," he leaned back in his seat again, "I feel that I should inform you, Doctor, that I am fully aware that Rose Tyler is still alive and well. Quite frankly, I am slightly disappointed that you would believe you could deceive me with information such as this in the first place."

The smile slipped from the Doctor's face instantly. "What makes you believe she's still alive?"

Dracula neatly dodged the question. "You really are of the opinion that you are two steps ahead of everyone else," he said quietly, "Tell me, Doctor, what is it like living life with the belief that one is invincible?"

"I never said that."

"Oh, but you do believe it, do you not?" the vampire continued prodding, "You go through life, ever the victor, and every triumph brings you one step closer to believing those who call you their god. When all else deteriorates, turns to dust before you, you remain. Ever the constant. No wonder you try to control the actions of all those around you."

The Doctor slammed a hand down on the table, the loud _clack!_ reverberating through the room and causing the sickly girls standing against the walls to start. "And how exactly is this relevant, hmm?" he asked angrily, "Why is any of _this_," he gestured wildly around the room, "necessary for us to discuss the terms of these girls' release? _What kind of game are you playing, Dracula?!_"

The Count wasn't fazed at all by the shouting. "Oh, games, as you put it, are above me, Doctor," he said calmly, "But, like you, I usually get the things I want. You see, Time Lord, according to humanity who has labelled me as a demon, I am damned. In accordance to this, I gather that it is therefore my right to lie, cheat, steal and thereby collect the things that I covet."

He smiled. "And yet, arrogant as I am, I believe that time has given you an arrogance that far precedes mine. Perhaps my redemption lies in yours."

The Doctor frowned, shaking his head furiously. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he waved a hand at the two girls who had served the starters, telling them to clear away the uneaten food, "That I have decided to give you an ultimatum."

The Time Lord cocked an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"You give me Rose Tyler."

He scoffed at this. "Not going to happen."

"Or neither of us gets her."

The Doctor stood up from his seat so quickly that the table was almost sent flying. "Was that a threat?" he inquired, voice low and dangerous.

"I am sure you know that I do not make threats," the vampire answered, also getting up and moving closer, "I am not you, Doctor. I am not weighed down by the opinions of my peers. When I make a promise, I make good on that promise."

As he spoke, he lifted his hands as though in a wide gesture of welcome. The instance his arms were at shoulder-level, all twenty girls, as well as Ana who still stood by the entrance of the room, clutched at their heads and released high-pitched wails.

"What are you doing?!" the Doctor shouted.

"Respecting your claims," Dracula told him as the screams died down. He gestured to the girls, now all sagging against the walls and weakly panting, "I have removed all traces of suggestion from their minds. They are free to leave, should they still want to."

"Why should I believe that?"

The Count nodded seriously. "Why should you indeed. Simply because of this: I have no need for them anymore. They have served their purpose, and I should think that killing them all would be rather barbaric. To be honest, I have grown fond of them in their time here."

He was still confused. "And what purpose is that, then?"

Again, the pearly white teeth appeared.

"Is telepathy not fascinating?" the vampire suddenly changed the subject, "As a telepathic being yourself, you must have at one point or another stopped and appreciated the medium's many benefits. Share a link with a being strong enough, and you can accomplish much—confer in complete privacy, convey emotional states of being— communicate over great expanses in space and time."

As realisation dawned, the Doctor's eyes popped wide.

"Rose," he breathed.

He rushed out of the dining hall, out of the castle, without another word. Short before long, he found himself in the console room, breathing hard from exertion but otherwise not caring. He punched in the Powell Estate coordinates, artron energy be damned. The TARDIS must have been on the same page as him, because for once she gave no protest as she blew through the Time Vortex.

His ship had barely landed and the Doctor was out the door, up the steps, banging on the door of Jackie's flat.

All the while, he kept on thinking about what might have happened as he'd left her alone, that horrible image of Rose's cold, lifeless body lying on a morgue table below him playing again and again in his mind. He'd left her alone again, and she'd been hurt, because that was just how things worked out for him.

He kept on banging on the door, panic making him contemplate whether Jackie would strangle him or not if he kicked the door down. Luckily before this decision was made, the woman of the hour herself ripped the door open, clearly livid.

"What the hell—" Jackie shouted, taking in his dishevelled appearance.

"Where's Rose?!" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders before she could even get out a complete sentence.

"Let—go of me, you big idiot!" she pulled back, slapping him repeatedly with a rolled-up magazine that had suddenly appeared in her hand.

"Ow!" he cried as she continued hitting him, "Alright. ALRIGHT! I'm sorry!"

Jackie stopped hitting him as she, too, calmed down, instead fixing him with her standard Jackie-like scowl and folded arms. "What do you mean 'where's Rose?'? She's gone out with her mates just like any twenty-year-old ought to on a Saturday evening."

The Doctor sighed, and Jackie could see that he still wasn't happy.

Much as she would never admit it, she harboured some reserves of sympathy for the alien. She gave him another once-over before joining in on the sigh. "Come on in, then," she told him finally, "You can wait inside until she gets back. I'll boil us a cup of tea while we wait."

The Doctor gave a relenting nod and settled himself down on the couch inside, reaching for the remote control and turning on the telly just for something to look at. Much to his dismay, he'd turned the television on right at the beginning of _EastEnders, _which of course Jackie's bat-ears immediately caught wind of.

"Oh! Time for _EastEnders_ already?" she exclaimed, rushing over to sit beside him and handing him a cup of tea.

"Do we really have to watch this?" the Doctor whinged.

"Hush up, you," Jackie shushed him with another slap, which he dodged just a moment too late.

For a few minutes, the Doctor was silent. Whether the reason for this was the fact that the show was actually captivating some of his attention, that he was scared of another slap from Jackie, or maybe a bit of both no one knew, but sooner rather than later the Doctor was talking again.

"So, Jane and Ian are…?"

"Well, they just spent the night together last episode," Jackie explained, never taking her eyes off the screen, "And Jane wants to keep the relationship a secret, 'cause it's private and that—but Ian, prat that he is, just went and spilled the beans to Alfie. And this on top of poor Alfie and Kat trying to secure themselves a council house! Ian should know better, he should."

He looked at her incredulously for a second. "You know they're not real people, don't you?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be all high and mighty! I've heard you go on about bloody _Star Wars_ characters with all the seriousness you could muster!"

"That's different!"

"And how's that, then?"

"They're _Jedi_!"

He would never say it out loud, but the Doctor actually found the experience of watching daytime soap-opera with Jackie Tyler quite enjoyable, if only for her commentary on the show ("Well it's about bloody _time_ that you told them about the baby, Linda!"). By the time the credits were rolling on the episode and his cup of tea was efficiently drained, he'd almost forgotten to be on edge.

Almost.

The sound of the door to the flat opening caught both of their attentions.

"Mum, I'm home!" Rose's voice called from the small entranceway.

The Doctor felt relief and joy spread through him as he heard her. He hadn't even realised how much he'd actually missed her until his ears had caught the sound of her voice again. In the few seconds it took for her to round the corner, the Doctor came to the decision that he would convince her to come away with him again at any cost.

She came into view and smiled at her mother pleasantly as she shucked her coat. She was wearing a revealing, red sequined top with black jeans and high-heeled boots that had the Doctor staring.

It was only after she'd taken off the coat when she noticed the Doctor's presence. Spotting him, her smile faltered slightly but didn't disappear completely. That was a good sign.

"How was your night?" Jackie asked her, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Fun," Rose grinned, "Although everyone kept complaining that they hadn't seen me in ages. Not that I know how to explain the reason for _that_ to them."

She glanced at the Doctor again, giving him a polite smile (an unfamiliar gesture which he frowned at) before turning back to her mum.

"So who's this, then?" Rose asked her.


	28. Episode 2 Part 12

_Fourteen days ago…_

Rose was still walking away when she heard the TARDIS door close. Only then did she chance a look over her shoulder again; watching in silence as the wonderful ship and the man inside dematerialised from her life.

It was also only then that she allowed the pain to come. She'd done a good job of hiding it from him as well she could, and now the sheer force of it threatened to overpower her. She stood for a few moments, she couldn't be bothered about how long they were, just staring into the space he'd last been in. Just rocking back and forth on her heels with the ebb and flow of the pain waves rushing over her.

Then a particularly strong wave came, bowling her over. The wave was accompanied by a sob as she crumpled in on herself—in and in and in—until she settled on the cold cement. She wrapped her arms around her legs, softly allowing the sobs to wrack her body while a harder part of her looked on in distaste.

This was pathetic, that part of her kept saying. She was being pathetic. He'd left her, alright, but it was nothing she hadn't been through before. At least this time she'd been kicked out on her arse with her savings still intact. At least she wasn't crawling back to her mum's after being estranged from her for months. Well. Certainly not _completely _estranged.

But then the dominant part of her shouted out in protest. This wasn't Jimmy all over again. It wasn't the same at all. Because she'd believed herself to love Jimmy Stone, but she hadn't. Not really. Loving the Doctor had taught her that.

Again it didn't matter how long she stayed like that. She only recognised that time had passed at all when she heard a pair of footsteps approaching her. Stop, they went. Then they were moving faster, accelerating. She felt soft hands and looked into her mother's eyes, wide and panicked, searching hers.

The eyes softened.

"Where is he?" she asked Rose.

"Gone," she answered, realising that her sobs had diminished somewhat. Now her voice just sounded small. "He's left me."

Jackie didn't say anything to that, for which Rose was grateful. She was reminded of how much she loved her mum as Jackie quietly helped her stand and, putting a supporting arm around her shoulders, led her home.

…

_Thirteen days ago…_

"I'll have him, I will!" Jackie raged, putting more aggression into steeping their tea than was entirely necessary, "The nerve of him, just leaving you here like that! And infected, too. I thought he cared about you."

Rose sighed, accepting the mug of tea when her mum finally offered it. She took a good swig, twice as effective as Dutch courage, before answering. "He does, Mum," she told her, "That was part of the problem."

After falling asleep with some difficulty the previous evening, Rose had gotten in a proper amount of rest to be at least somewhat reasonable come 'round about noon when she'd woken up again. She'd realised that sleep deprivation had played a large, though not complete, role in her emotional breakdown the previous night. She couldn't even remember when last she'd had a naturally induced, non-injury-related rest. One tended to forget about things like that when one ran with the Doctor.

Not that she needed to worry about that anymore.

A bout of pain rolled through her at the thought and she found herself, despite her newfound reasonability, resenting the Doctor just a little.

Not for taking her along with him. Never for that. But certainly for leaving her behind, and strangely for caring about her in the first place.

Then she quickly reminded herself that it wouldn't even have made a difference if he'd been completely indifferent towards her. She would still have grown to care for him as deeply as she did. Still have never left him.

Although…

Although—hadn't she been the one who'd walked out on _him _in the end?

The conversation they'd had just prior to her leaving ran through her head and the oddest sensation, like a light tugging at the back of her mind, made itself known.

"Are the lights still too bright for you, Sweetheart?" her mum asked her, misinterpreting Rose's frown of concentration.

"No, it's fine," Rose said, waving a vague hand towards the drawn kitchen blinds, "I was just—"

She stared blankly ahead of her for a moment.

"Just—what, Rose?"

She'd just been thinking about someone. Who had it been, again? Jack? Mickey? No, she mentally amended, it had been the Doctor. Of course it had been. She was always thinking about him. Silly Rose.

_You should stop._

Huh, she thought. There was that same strange voice of reason in her mind again. Probably nothing, though.

She looked up at her mother's confused expression and smiled at her. "Must've gotten away from me," she shrugged and Jackie's face relaxed. "Now, what do you say we go watch the latest episode of _EastEnders_?"

…

_Ten days ago…_

She looked at the cell phone as though it were a dangerous animal while it rang away. She'd have recognised the number instantly even if it hadn't shown the caller id.

Why was he calling her? Why did he continue calling her even when she didn't pick up? Three days now, and he'd called at least six times. She had half a mind to pick up the phone just to tell him that he should stop harassing her.

It was a dark stain on an otherwise pleasant day for her. She'd been able to step out and bask in the sunlight fully today. No burning of her person had ensued. After that, she'd called up her mates Shareen and Keisha and invited them out for some chips and shopping.

Talking to the two of them, she'd realised just how in need of normalcy she was. She couldn't even remember when the last time had been that the Doctor had taken her—or rather, dropped her off—somewhere she could get in a good shop. Not that she was really the type to have an incessant need for that sort of thing, but still. Sometimes something as mundane as going to a clothing store was nice, too.

She walked into her favourite chip shop, quickly seeing her two waving friends. She smiled at them pleasantly and sat down in the seat that they'd saved for her.

"Looks a bit different from the last time I was in here," Rose commented, looking at the new, shiny countertops of the tables and the trendy designs that had been painted on the walls.

"Yeah, they renovated the whole place about a month ago," Keisha replied, "Word is they're going to do the same with the pub on the corner. Seems like our little part of London's moving upmarket."

Rose snorted. "Yeah. That'll be the day."

"Just think, though," Shareen said dreamily, "Maybe they'll tear down the old Estate one day. Give us a proper place to live."

"Maybe they will," Rose agreed, the bitterness of twenty years' worth of injustice towards her lower-class social status becoming evident in her voice, "But I can guarantee you those places they'll build in the Estate's place won't be where _we'll_ live."

Shareen looked up at her. "You're starting to sound like your old self again," she observed.

Rose sighed and some of her gusto dissipated. "Is that a good or a bad thing?" she asked her friend.

"Neither," Shareen shrugged, "Just—different. We've gotten so used to the way you were around him, the ways you've changed since going travelling—I just didn't expect to be seeing _this _Rose again."

Oddly enough, Shareen's words reminded her a lot of the way she'd felt at the time when the Doctor had regenerated. After she'd realised that he was, indeed, himself and not some skinny Slitheen parading around pretending to be him, she'd found herself capable of accepting the changes in him. It hadn't been as much that any of the changes had been good or bad. Just different. She still loved him either way.

She couldn't even remember his previous body all that clearly anymore, she thought sadly. Not as sharply as she would if she'd seen him the previous day. She could no longer remember the exact shade of blue his eyes had been, how tall he'd been, precisely what the leather of his jacket had smelled like—

But—

She couldn't remember those small details about _this _incarnation of the Doctor, either.

As the realisation struck her, her mind raced in an attempt to contradict the thought. She'd put him out of her mind these past few days, sure. Even reprimanded herself any time her thoughts strayed too far towards him. But that certainly didn't explain why now she couldn't even recall the colour of the same old chucks he always wore, or the sound of his voice when he babbled on at the speed of light.

"Rose, babe?"

Rose gave a start when Keisha put a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah?" she asked, feeling a familiar tug at the back of her mind.

"Your phone's ringing," her friend pointed out.

"Oh, right."

She almost pressed the answering button automatically, but caught sight of the number at the last moment and threw the small contraption down on the table as though it had electrocuted her. Her two friends looked at her as if she'd gone insane while the phone kept on ringing insistently.

"Not going to answer it, then?" Shareen asked her after a moment.

"I just—I can't. Not right now. Maybe not ever."

"But w—" Keisha started asking before she interrupted herself, "Oh, wait. _Oh_. It's him, isn't it?"

Shareen rolled her eyes. "'Course it's him, Keish. Keep up."

Not for the first time, Rose mused that Shareen and the Doctor would likely get on quite well. They had the same brand of rudeness.

The call ran out just like the others had, leaving Rose with the judging, yet also slightly sympathetic, looks of her friends.

"You could've answered," Keisha told her, "He was probably calling to check up on you. Maybe even to make up."

"Yeah, but that's the problem," for the first time in three days, Rose's eyes burned with unshed tears as she looked down at her now dormant mobile, "'Cause maybe he will say he's sorry. Maybe he will come back for me. But what's to stop him from just doing this all over again the next time something bad happens? It's like I told him, too: he can't keep me in a glass case forever. But he's never going to listen 'cause—'cause he's just too scared to relinquish control. He'd die to keep me safe, but he'd also let me go."

Her friends didn't know everything about her travels with the Doctor—something told her that they weren't quite ready to deal with her involvement with a just shy of a thousand-year-old alien— but they knew enough. Enough for them to offer genuine support. Enough for them to at least try to understand.

Rose loved them for that.

…

_Seven days ago…_

Rose was woken by the sound of her mother shouting at someone that morning. She checked her alarm and groaned when the red digits told her that it was just past 8 am. That most likely meant that Jackie's latest victim was some bloke who'd spent the night.

God, she'd _told_ her mum not to do that anymore.

She covered herself with a dressing gown—with the more dodgy ones you never knew— and headed into the living area where the shouting was originating from.

Surprisingly, no sheepish-looking elder man greeted her when she entered. Instead, she found her mother with her back turned, speaking to someone on the other side of the landline.

Rose, curious as ever, leaned against the opposite wall to her mother and resolved to listen for any indication as to who it might be. It wasn't _technically_ eavesdropping. Jackie had the power to turn around at any time and notice her presence. She just wasn't going to be obnoxious about it, is all.

Rose gave a silent scoff at herself. Listen to her. She sounded just like him.

She frowned then, momentarily distracted. That was odd.

Sounded just like who?

"_Have you gone and gotten her brain damaged?!_" her mother suddenly shrieked, causing Rose to jump.

Curiosity piquing once again, Rose focused in on the conversation. By the sound of the shouting coming from the other side of the line, she deduced that Jackie wasn't just giving someone a telling off. She was having a proper row. Who would step up to the plate long enough to do _that_?

Her question was answered with Jackie's following words.

"Well, you _have _abandoned her," she hissed in reply to something the other person had said, "I reckon you're full of surprises."

Oh. They were talking about abandonment. And about her. That meant that only one other person could be on the other side of the line.

The details she remembered about him had faded even more over the course of the last few days. If she concentrated hard enough, she could just about make out in her mind's eye what his face had looked like, but she didn't remember much more about him than that. In the back of her mind, the tugging sensation had also worsened. When it appeared, times which never correlated with anything she could think of, the sensation was frantic. Almost painful.

Still, what she did remember was the fact that the Doctor's name was inexorably intertwined with a feeling of abandonment. He'd left her, and it had hurt. Why, she couldn't quite remember, but it had. More than a non-physical pain should. She found herself recoiling from the person who'd caused it even though he wasn't really there.

She watched her mother's shoulders sag as she released a sigh. Obviously the Doctor had said something that had gotten through to her. Good for him.

"Fine," her mum said, her voice sounding less bombastic and more—pitiful? Did she actually feel _sorry _for this man who had caused them so much pain? How was that even possible?

She watched her mother put the phone back in its rightful place and shake her head sadly. Still Rose didn't say anything. When Jackie turned around and saw Rose quietly surveying her, she started.

"And how long have you been standing there?" her mother asked with her hands on her hips, the indignation not quite manifesting itself on her face properly.

"Long enough," Rose said quietly, still leaning against the wall, "You two on speaking terms now?"

"He wanted to know if you're alright," she told her.

"Well, that's nice," Rose said, her voice carrying underlying hurt, "Wouldn't want him feeling guilty about leaving me behind only to have me burnt alive anyway."

"You know that's not why."

"No, you're right," Rose said, bitterness rising, "I'm probably just collateral."

Jackie quirked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. "So, that's what you're gonna do now? Feel sorry for yourself? What happened to you being so sure he cared about you that you would still defend him even after he'd left you?"

Rose opened her mouth to respond when a strong tug at the back of her mind caused her to falter and flinch slightly.

"_I want you safe because I care…"_

Her head shook vigorously to clear it of the thought almost of its own accord.

"I grew up," she announced curtly, "I stopped being that stupid, naïve little Rose who would run off with the first bloke that showed interest and started living in the real world."

"Rose," Jackie shook her head, letting loose an incredulous laugh, "You've been travelling around space with a thousand-year-old alien for the last few years. In a _time machine_! You've long since stopped living in the _real world_, whatever that even is now."

"In case you haven't noticed," Rose said coldly, "He's left me here. He doesn't _want _me to be a part of his world."

Her mother sized her up for another moment, scrutinising her in the way Rose had come to learn from her. Letting those piercing blue eyes of hers bore into Rose's head.

When she was small, Rose had never been able to lie to that gaze. Jackie would discern her every secret within the minute. Travelling with the Doctor, Rose had become a better liar. Had had to, really. But still her mother's way of seemingly looking straight through her unnerved her.

"He said that you left him," Jackie said quietly, "Not the other way around."

Rose barked out a disbelieving laugh at this.

"Well, that's just absolute—"

And then her words were interrupted by a sensation in the back of her mind that could only be described as getting hit by a sledgehammer. As the feeling hit, she was overwhelmed—sight, sound and smell—by a flashback of the last moment she'd spent with him.

"_Have a good life, Doctor."_

She'd left him.

_She'd _left _him._

Oh god, the look on his face. He'd never meant to leave her. He'd only let her go because he'd thought she'd wanted it. She'd only left because she'd thought that he'd wanted her to. Because of the things he'd said…

But his words could have been interpreted completely differently, couldn't they? He'd never said that he was leaving her behind _permanently_. He'd never actually given an indication that he wouldn't come back for her. She'd just been assuming.

And why?

How could she, Rose Tyler, have just given up on him when he'd tried to send her away? She, who'd once braved the Time Vortex and an army of Daleks to get back to him? How _the hell_ had she wound up being the one to break his heart?

Unless…

The truth dawned on her.

Before being wiped away completely.

She opened her eyes slowly. Only a few seconds had passed. Her gaze travelled down to her right hand, the point where her small mobile rested. She stared at it blankly, seeing the caller id.

"The TARDIS is calling me," she said in an oddly deflated, hollow sort of voice.

"You going to answer it?" her mother asked, eyeing her with an indecipherable expression.

For a moment, Rose contemplated picking it up just for a laugh. Just to see who it was.

Maybe it was Jack, she thought with a grin. She'd not seen Jack in a while. She missed him. In more ways than one, she realised. She had to remember to ask him out for a drink when she saw him again. He was certainly more than her type in the looks department, after all. Clever, too. She couldn't understand why she'd never considered him before.

But then she pressed the end-call button, reasoning that speaking with anyone she knew from that part of her life would lead to the temptation being too great. She'd stopped travelling for a reason. She needed to focus on her _real _life; the one away from the aliens and the adventure and the hand-holding with—Jack, she supposed.

"Tell you what," Rose said cheerily, "How about I go buy some groceries? We're running low on bread and milk as it is."

Jackie kept fixing her with that odd look. "You hate buying groceries," she said warily.

"Need some fresh air," she justified, already heading to her room to change and feeling quite chirpy considering that she was just heading out to the shops. "I'll probably meet up with Shareen and Keish later, too. You alright with hanging about here alone for the day?"

Jackie didn't answer. She just stared after her daughter worriedly.

…

_Three days ago…_

Rose jerked awake, momentarily distraught.

Where was she?

On the TARDIS? In the Count's castle? Some other foreign place?

She struggled against something holding her feet and arms in place, growing more and more panicked.

Where was she?

She needed to get back. Needed to find someone. But she couldn't remember who it was. Every time she tried to call up the person's face, her own mind seemed to assault her like it was now.

She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.

_Where was she?!_

Slowly she became aware.

Of course. She was in her mother's flat. In her same old room, safe and sound. She was lying in bed on a pillow that seemed to be drenched through-and-through. She was tangled up in the bed covers so badly that she couldn't even move.

And she was sobbing.

The sobs were painful, rolling so deeply through her body that her entire frame shook. The despair each sob carried was devastating, touching her very core. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out who or what she was crying for. She didn't seem to be crying for any one thing in particular.

Most likely it was just another nightmare that she couldn't remember.

With this knowledge, Rose slowly but surely worked at getting her breathing under control again. The inhalation-exhalation pattern was soothing, and after a while she drifted back into a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep.

…

_Two hours ago…_

Rose grinned, waving the small slip of paper above her head like a prize while she approached her two friends.

"What did I tell you?" she said cheekily, slapping the paper down in front of them proudly, "This top, plus blokes, equals free drinks and phone numbers every time!"

She sat down next to them at the bar, her smile faltering as she took in their facial expressions.

"What is it?" she asked them.

"Look, Rose," Shareen sighed while Keisha took a quick sip of her pretty drink to—no doubt—keep from getting pulled into the argument, "It's great that you're putting yourself out there again, and we're really glad that you're moving on and all, but—don't you think it's all a bit soon?"

Rose looked at her incredulously. "Soon?" she frowned, "It's been two weeks. And it's not as though I was sworn off dating when I was travelling, either."

Shareen exchanged a knowing look with Keisha, who had since put down her drink and was eyeing Rose strangely.

Rose hadn't talked about the Doctor at all for a good week now, and her friends were starting to worry about when she might snap. Even people who'd only glimpsed the two of them together would have known how strongly Rose had felt for the Doctor, yet now it seemed as though she'd forgotten him altogether. Neither Shareen nor Keisha believed it for a second.

"We know it's hard, babe," Keisha told her, putting a comforting hand over Rose's, "Hell, if it's anything like what I went through with Rob a few years back, I think I may understand what you're feeling better than you think. But don't you think that going out and throwing yourself at people may be something you'll regret in the future?" Keisha's gaze slipped for a moment, "I know I did."

"_Throwing myself at people_?" Rose pulled her hand away from Keisha and looked at her friends disbelievingly. "I wasn't _throwing _myself at anyone! Blimey, you'd think after I was away for two years, the two of you would actually enjoy it when we went clubbing again!"

Shareen huffed frustratedly . "Rose, you know that's not—"

"Save it," she told her friend, at the same time a male hand appeared on Rose's shoulder.

She turned in surprise to find Matt, one of her old clubbing buddies from ages ago. She noted that he'd bulked up considerably since she'd last laid eyes on him. The look suited him quite well.

"Wotcha," he grinned down at her, "It really is you."

She returned the smile, standing up to face him fully and, in doing so, turning her back on Shareen and Keisha's worried stares. "It's really me," she confirmed, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You look great," he complimented, sweeping an appreciative eye down her torso.

"Not looking so bad yourself," she returned, eyeing him in the same manner.

His smile widened, taking on a suggestive edge to it, and Rose could practically feel the disapproval rolling off her friends at her back.

"So," Matt started, moving in closer to her, "I'm actually here with the old crowd right now. With some obvious exceptions," he cast a glance over Rose's shoulder. "They'd be dying to see you, too. What d'you say?"

Rose nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds good to me!" she said, already setting off.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm before leaning in to speak into her ear. "And maybe later you and me could—get out of here."

Rose cast a glance over her shoulder at her friends. She caught a glimpse of Shareen mouthing her a silent "no".

Then she smiled back at Matt, if somewhat spitefully. She'd show them what throwing herself at someone _really _looked like.

"Sounds good to me," she told him in a sultry tone.


	29. Episode 2 Part 13

"What's your name?"

"Rose Tyler."

"Where do you live?"

"The Powell Estate.'

"Who's Jackie Tyler?"

"Really?"

"Just answer, please."

Rose sighed as she leaned against the back of the sofa and eyed the insufferable man across from her.

"And what if I don't want to, hmm?" she asked him with narrowed eyes, "What gives you the right to just waltz in here and tell me that there's something wrong with my brain?"

"Rose," her mother admonished next to her.

Rose turned to Jackie, fixing her with a disbelieving expression. "And there you are, defending him! I've never even heard of him, Mum. Don't you think I would have, what with me having travelled through time and space for _two years_?" she looked back at the man who claimed to be the Doctor contemptuously, "Maybe he's done something to _your_ brain."

For the briefest of moments, Rose caught a flash of pain crossing over the man's features before he brought his hand up, obscuring it completely. "For the last time," he said as he ran the hand up his face and through his (kind of amazing) hair, "I'm not controlling her mind, Rose. Nor yours. But your mind is being controlled by someone else. Count Dracula. He's doing it to get to me, and I've no idea how to stop it just yet."

She looked at him in awed silence for a moment. Then she turned back to her mother, staring at her imploringly. "Are you hearing this?" she cried incredulously.

"It's not that far-flung," Jackie said quietly, "After everything you've faced over the years, you can't possibly be _that_ surprised that you found Dracula on this go."

"No," Rose shook her head adamantly, "The Dracula bit I remember. I just don't remember _him _having any part in it. Not in _anything _I've done."

"But I did," he insisted, the intensity in his deep-brown eyes causing her to go slightly light-headed, "All those things you remember, those are things _we _did. You and I. Together."

She wasn't going to give in to that, no matter what an ineffable effect he seemed to have on her. For all she knew, that was just one of his alien superpowers.

"So tell me this, then," she said, switching gears, "Let's say, hypothetically, you're right and my mind now contains sod-all of my memories, why would Dracula do that to get to _you_? What am I to you?"

At this his face softened. "You're my best friend."

His words caused her heart to flutter in a way it hadn't since she was sixteen, but luckily she managed to keep a healthy dose of scepticism up as a front. "Right. So you're saying that the Count went through all this trouble to get to you while you were _right there_ just 'cause we're friends?"

"_Best _friends," he stretched.

"Yeah, _best _friends. Alright," she laughed ruefully, shaking her head and getting up from off the couch, "Sorry if that doesn't inspire me to have much trust in your story."

The Doctor huffed, also getting up. "Well, obviously not _that _much has changed, then," he muttered.

Jackie looked between the two of them bemusedly. "She doesn't even know who you are, and still you manage to have a couples' row," she mused with an eye-roll.

Rose disappeared down the hallway and, moments later, the Doctor and Jackie heard the crack of a bedroom door slamming. The Doctor winced at the sound.

"She'll have to come with me eventually," he said, turning back to Jackie, "The Count was thorough; he put a telepathic lock on her memories so that only he could unlock them. I'll have to take her back to him."

Jackie nodded, for once not mouthing off about the Doctor's putting Rose in this situation in the first place. "Yeah, figured it was going to be something like that. Tell you what— you go, give her some space to wrap her head around it all for a minute and I'll talk her 'round to it."

The Doctor knew, albeit begrudgingly, that Jackie actually had the best course of action in mind.

"Alright," he agreed, turning to head back down to the TARDIS.

"Only—"

He turned back to her slowly. "Only?"

Jackie shifted uncomfortably where she stood, fiddling with the hem of her bright turquoise shirt and not quite meeting his eyes. "Only maybe—you shouldn't."

He frowned. "Shouldn't what?"

She sighed and met his eyes. "Shouldn't take her with you. Just leave her here," she held up a hand when he opened his mouth, "No, shut up. Listen. The thing about Rose that you need to remember, Doctor, is when she says she won't leave you, she really won't. D'you get that? Not ever. Every time that you bring her here, I see it in her eyes. In the way she looks at you. And, frankly, it scares me to death. 'Cause this life that you lead, that you've pulled her into—that's a part of you, too. That's why she loves it just as much as she does you."

Her eyes glistened. "And loving both is going to kill her one day."

The Doctor knew that the lump of guilt that he felt rise in his throat was directly owing to his unsaid admission:

It already had.

Instead, however, he utilised a technical justification. "I'm sorry, Jackie, but I can't just leave her here like this. The Count is cleverer than that. When he erased her memories of me, he didn't take away all the memories including me. He left gaps," the Doctor's fists clenched and he realised that he'd never wanted to deck someone as badly as he did Count bloody Dracula. "Right now it's fine, because Rose is mentally filling in those blank spaces with as much logical thought as is possible, but it won't hold. Her mind's a ticking time bomb. Given time, the gaps will start to erode, take up larger chunks of memory, until eventually—" he trailed off.

Jackie's eyes widened in horror before she composed herself and proceeded to nod solemnly.

"I'll talk her 'round."

…

Talking Rose around took a very long time, apparently. By the time the Doctor heard knocking on the TARDIS door, he knew that it was already light out.

"You could have just come in," he told Rose when he opened the door, "You live here, you know."

"_Lived_. Past tense," she reprised, striding past him and up the ramp. She sat herself down on the jump seat without any further preamble, eyeing him warily. "I'm here for some answers."

He nodded, moving over to lean on the console across from her, being careful to keep his distance (which he hated). "Shoot," he told her.

"Okay," she said, still stony-faced, "First question: Are we shagging?"

The Doctor's eyes glazed over and for a second he didn't quite register what she'd asked him. When he did, however, he found it rather impossible to maintain any sense of eloquence. "W—what?" he sputtered in a slightly higher than normal pitch.

Rose snorted. "I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"Yes. I mean no—I mean—" he steadied himself from the sudden verbal onslaught, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh," she waved a hand airily, "Just wondering. The way my body reacts to yours, the way I constantly want to be in contact with you—oh well," she shrugged, "Must just be an attraction thing, I suppose."

Well now, how did one respond to _that_?

"Um," the Doctor said, answering his own mental question.

"So, we're really just friends, then? We're not together or anything?"

He shook his head slowly, uncertainly, not really knowing whether he was lying or not. He certainly thought of her as more than just a friend; their whole predicament just proved this to be fact once again. But did he really have the right to stake such a claim on her when he kept pulling her close and then pushing her away?

"Alright then," Rose grinned, "That's a relief.'

At which point his full attention was abruptly snapped back to her.

"_What's_ a relief?" he asked suspiciously.

"That we're not together," she continued inadvertently, "'Cause otherwise I may have kind of—sort of— cheated on you." She smiled sheepishly.

"_What?!_"

She raised her eyebrows. "What 'what'?"

The Doctor looked at her incredulously. "With _who_?"

"Bit tetchy for someone who claims not to be my boyfriend, ain't you?"

"Who was it?" he asked, trying and failing miserably to sound less murderous.

"Is it any of your business?"

"_Damned well_ it's my—"

He stopped short when he saw Rose's eyebrows climb even higher and a small, triumphant smile make itself known on her face. "So we _are _together!" she announced, grinning outright.

The Doctor sighed, running a hand through that gorgeous hair of his again. Throwing caution to the wind, he moved to sit down beside her.

"It's—it's more complicated than that."

"_It's more complicated than that_," she repeated in a surprisingly good impersonation of his voice. She shook her head exasperatedly, but didn't press it any more.

After a few minutes which were spent by each person looking straight ahead at their respective spots on the floor, Rose leaned sideways and bumped the Doctor with her shoulder. "His name's Matt," she started, "He'd been trying to chat me up the entire evening through, even though I'd already agreed to go with him at the start as it was. 'Round about ten, he'd had a few, so him and me left the club together. After that—"

She paused, trying not to smile at the fact that the Doctor didn't seem to be breathing

"I dialled a cab and it took him home."

The Doctor looked up at her in surprise.

"So, wait," he said slowly, "You didn't—"

Rose smiled up at him softly. 'Nah," she told him, resting a hand over his, "Just didn't feel right at the time doing it."

He looked down at their hands lying atop each other, a gesture that was so familiar yet seemed so foreign in their current situation. He turned his hand so that his palm was facing upwards and took her hand. Rose allowed their fingers to intertwine. The small remnant of contact made the Doctor feel that much more at ease.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"How did Jackie talk you 'round?"

No answer came, and when he looked up, it was to see Rose smiling down mysteriously at their linked hands.

"I'll tell you some other time," she said without further elaboration.


	30. Episode 2 Part 14

"Ride's a bit bumpier than I remember!" Rose called over the alternating high- and low-pitched groans of the TARDIS. She was holding on to a coral strut for all that she was worth, wondering at how the impossible man she'd known for years yet just met could stay on his feet.

"Yeah, sorry about that," the Doctor called back while he leaned over to grab a large mallet from a hook on the console that had just appeared out of nowhere, "Had to dampen the artron energy flow earlier. The TARDIS isn't taking very well to it." He glared up at the ceiling, smacking the console once with the mallet.

_Well, you're not taking my advice, _the TARDIS argued stubbornly.

"What was that?" Rose frowned, looking around the room confusedly.

He cast a worried look back at her before returning his eyes to the ceiling.

_Stop it_, he told the ship, shooting a warning thought upwards.

The TARDIS gave a relenting _harrumph_, ending their journey on that sour note. Around them the machine stilled, causing Rose to break away from the strut and look around the room appreciatively.

"Travelling," she sighed happily, "Never really get used to it, do you?"

The Doctor moved over, strategically closing in but leaving the choice of grasping his hand up to her. To his delight, she did.

"In the past thousand or so years?" he pretended to think about it, and finally grinned down at her, "Never."

Rose returned a radiant smile, reminding the Doctor of just how easy it was to fall for her no matter what state she was in.

"Well, come on then!" she told him excitedly, pulling him along behind her as she exited.

"Blimey," she said in more hushed tones once they were outside, "Is it always this lively 'round here?"

If it was at all possible, the town was even more dead than the Doctor had found it during his previous arrivals.

At least then there'd been signs of life. This—there was no other word for it— was a ghost town. Shutters were bolted, darkness reigned and no angry mobs' footsteps sounded. The only sound that could be heard was that of the wind howling around them. It was even a bit nippier than it had been when he'd last been there.

"Where is everyone?" he murmured.

"Million pound question, that," Rose murmured back.

The eerie silence was broken when a sole pair of footsteps could be heard approaching them from further up the road. The Doctor knew for a fact that these footsteps didn't belong to the Count. His entrances had more style to them than that.

A small silhouette appeared in the darkness. As it neared them, it revealed itself to be none other than a very familiar teenager.

"Ana," Rose breathed, instantly and without warning abandoning the Doctor's side to rush over to the girl.

Ana's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the two of them. "It really is you," she said in awe, her eyes finding rest on the Doctor's face.

"Where is everyone, Ana?" he asked, stepping next to Rose.

As Ana's gaze fell to the large landmark of the Count's castle in the distance, her face became a mask of cold determination. "They're implementing the plan," she said quietly.

"Plan?" Rose raised an eyebrow, "What plan?"

Ana looked at Rose momentarily, but then her eyes drifted back to the Doctor's face. "You just disappeared," she told him in an accusatory tone, "You just left us. If you'd stayed, we'd have convinced them months ago."

His brow creased. "What do you mean 'convinced'?"

The young girl shook her head angrily. "Like you don't know," she pointed a finger at him, "You knew that the demon was Count Dracula all along. You'd seen what he'd done with your own eyes! Yet you abandoned us to tell the townspeople ourselves. They wanted to send us and anyone who stood with us away to the madhouse!"

"But you managed to convince them eventually, yeah?" Rose tried to make light of Ana's story, "I mean, you said that it took months and all, but you did it, didn't you?"

"We went to neighbouring towns," Ana told them, "We spoke to hundreds of people. Found daughters with similar stories to ours. When the crowd was finally big enough, not even the most stubborn of villagers could ignore fact any longer."

"So, they all know now," the Doctor said slowly.

"Yes," Ana confirmed.

"And that means that this plan—"

"Has just been set in motion," she finished for him, nodding towards the castle in the distance.

Both the Doctor and Rose's heads whipped around, only to find the massive structure of Count Dracula's lair lighting up the night sky with the flames that were slowly engulfing it.

The Doctor's sharp intake of breath was mirrored by the horror in Rose's eyes, and it only took another glance between the two of them for their next course of action to be determined.

"Come on," he told her urgently, grabbing hold of her hand and leading her back into the TARDIS.

…

In the smoking darkness of the Count's castle foyer, a peculiar, blue box appeared.

The Count, awaiting his swansong, heard the sound of the grating engines from where he stood in his study. Finally, he thought. He hadn't had hope that the Time Lord would find him again. Not before it was too late, at least.

"Split up?" he heard the very man speak a storey below him, "Rose, I'm not abandoning you in a burning building."

"Is that why I broke up with you, then?" Rose asked, causing Dracula to smirk amusedly, "Are you the clingy type?"

The smirk only widened at the sound of the Doctor's exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said in a muffled voice, no doubt the result of a hand being scrubbed down his face, "Do what you want, like usual. Just be careful, alright?"

"Alright, Mum," Rose muttered in a disgruntled tone.

The old vampire stopped listening then. He turned his attentions back the window he'd been staring out of, not really seeing what lay outside. No, what the Count saw was so much more magnificent than the view of the cliff that opened like a book to reveal the vast expanse of forestry that lay beyond. So much more unreachable.

Perhaps he would be able to reach it tonight.

Soft, light treads on the stone flooring in the hallway sounded. They stopped, and he knew that he'd been spotted. They entered in silence and stopped again, and the Count could clearly picture what he'd find should he turn around.

"I should not have done what I did to you," he broke the quiet.

"Then why did you?" came the soft reply.

It wasn't accusatory, not even angry. More than anything, it sounded sympathetic. It reminded the Count of too much, caused his heart to clench in his chest painfully in a way he'd never care to admit. And, while the unattainable still remained just outside of his grip, he decided to speak.

This atypical human would listen.

"Do you believe in destiny, Rose Tyler?"

He knew that she wouldn't answer. She knew that the question was rhetorical. The Count allowed the silence to carry his words for a moment before continuing.

"That even the powers of time," he stared at the lush forests, thinking of a time in which he'd run through them freely, "could be altered for a single purpose?"

He allowed his fingers to touch the pane in front of him, pretending to reach out, to steal those moments past back. "That the luckiest man on this earth is the one who finds—" he breathed deeply, allowing himself this small moment of vulnerability, "Who finds true love?"

Still, the girl didn't answer back. Didn't speak at all. The Count thought that the reason for this was an allowance of space in which he could speak and fear for what he might do should she say something wrong in equal measure.

Finally, Dracula turned. He took her in; ancient power crammed into such a young soul.

"There are darknesses in life," he told her softly, meeting her eyes fully, "And there are lights. And she—" he faltered, her visage swimming into his consciousness for the first time in eons. Her nature, her laughter…

He swallowed back the unfamiliar feeling of human emotion.

"She was one of the lights," he said, "The light of all lights."

The Count stepped towards Rose. She flinched, but didn't recoil. He placed a hand on her cheek, black eyes meeting hazel.

"You reminded me so much of her when I first saw you," he murmured, "When I glimpsed the image of you in his mind, burning brighter than fire. Moments were all it took. After, I formulated a plan to have you. To take you away from him."

He smiled ruefully.

"It is only now, with my home burning beneath me, that I realise how foolish I was."

Rose searched his eyes while a small crease formed between her brows. "Why?" she asked him.

He tried to convey his feelings to her without words even when he knew that it wouldn't be enough. He sighed. "Because, Rose Tyler," he said, "I only now realise that your power was never the source of your light." His eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder, "It was him. It was love, all-consuming. The way he sees you, the way you see him."

He paused. "The way I saw her—"

He brought the other hand up as well, cradling her face.

"The unattainable," he concluded in a wistful tone.

And at that moment, Rose Tyler's memories slotted back into place.

The Doctor's face, his voice, everything about him. All the things they'd been through together, good and bad. Pain, love, anger, passion—one by one every emotion that Rose had ever felt in connotation to him came flooding back.

The potent combination was too much. She found herself falling back.

It wasn't the Count's hands that caught her.

"Hi," the Doctor said, smiling down at her softly.

She turned in his arms, locking hers around his neck and never wanting to let go.

"Hi," she greeted back, still slightly shell-shocked.

With a small chuckle, he gently loosened her hands around his neck, still keeping a hold on them. "The whole place is going down," he told her, a crash from below them reiterating his point, "You get back to the TARDIS. I'll be down in a minute."

For once, perhaps owing to the fact that she didn't have all her senses at their sharpest just yet, she did as she was told. She cast a final look over her shoulder at the two men remaining in the study, wondering whether it was wise to leave them alone. She shook her head and headed into the smoke, devil may care.

The Doctor turned back to the Count when Rose had left.

"That was very—charitable of you," he said, a slight edge of suspicion colouring his voice.

Dracula smiled slightly at his distrust. "I think you will find that my specific brand of charity has some idiosyncrasies."

"Never thought it wouldn't," he retorted.

They stared each other down for a few seconds more before the Doctor heaved an almighty sigh. "If I'm going to save you, we're going to have to leg it out of this castle pretty quickly."

"What happened to me paying for my actions?" Dracula asked with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

"Empty threats, remember?"

The Count smiled again, shaking his head. He regarded the Doctor in bemusement. "You know, Doctor, you may not realise it, but you and I are a lot alike."

The Doctor gave a scoff. "We're nothing alike," he said decisively.

"No," the Count suddenly agreed, his bemusement with the Time Lord only seeming to grow, "Maybe I was mistaken. We do seem to differ on some terrains. I know when it is my time to die, for example."

That was when the Doctor realised what Dracula was implying.

"You want me to leave you here," he said quietly.

"It would sadden me to no end to part with my home," the Count justified, "It is all I have left of my Alina."

Without any further conversation the Doctor nodded solemnly, not wanting to stretch his departure out longer than he had to. He turned to leave, to put the guilt of once again not saving someone behind him, when the Count's voice prompted him to turn back around.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I am the last of my kind."

The Doctor's hardened eyes softened.

"Will you—" Dracula's composed nature seemed to fail him for a second and the Doctor glimpsed some of the turmoil within. Maybe they were more alike than he'd initially thought.

"Would you—make sure that I am not forgotten?"

Once again, he nodded.

"You'll never be forgotten, Dracula," he told him.

Then the Doctor left.

…

Rose wasn't in the console room when the Doctor entered. A quick scan of the TARDIS interior told him that she was, however, safe and sound in her room. Probably sleeping off the taxing events of the day.

Surprisingly, the Doctor was actually slightly relieved that Rose hadn't greeted him upon arrival. He hated meeting her eyes when his were too filled with darkness and guilt to even think properly. He moved over to the console and punched in coordinates. The flight was short.

When the TARDIS landed, he was out the door almost instantly.

…

Several hours and one wild escapade later, the Doctor was feeling decidedly more cheerful.

And why shouldn't he?

The day's adventure had been wrapped up all nice and tight with a bow and, at the moment, both he and Rose were peachy.

It was with this attitude that he strolled into the TARDIS, a big grin already plastered on his face at the thought of seeing Rose, complete with memories of him, again.

"That's that trip sorted!" he announced when he caught sight of her in the console room doorway, "Don't you just love it when everything comes together nicely? I'll tell you my mate Bram certainly did when I gave him the last bit of vampire lore he needed to start writing his new novel. _Dracula_ it's going to be called. Came up with the name myself. Reckon it's going to be a hit!"

His grin faded when he took in the rucksack slung haphazardly over Rose's one shoulder and the box of belongings she carried in her arms.

"You going somewhere?" he asked confusedly.

"Doctor…"

She looked at him sadly from across the room.

"I'm sorry, but—nothing's changed."


	31. Episode 2 Part 15

The TARDIS materialised in her usual parking spot in front of the Powell Estate. Inside, two time travellers stared at each other in silence.

Nothing had changed. Not where it mattered, anyway. After the initial moments of getting her memory back, after the joy of seeing the Doctor again and knowing in no uncertain terms what he meant to her, reality had begun to set in.

And what that reality had showed her— well, it hadn't been something that she'd wanted to see.

Forgetting the Doctor had allowed her to take a step back, to attain an outside view of the life Rose led with him. A life she knew would never be stable, for the same reason she found it so brilliant:

The Doctor cared about her. She knew that now.

And when the Doctor cared about people, he got scared. Scared of them dying, scared of them leaving, scared of them forgetting…

However much she wanted to and would, without a doubt, stay with him forever, the Doctor would never allow her to. One day, he would send her away, and the guilt of the act would threaten to tear him apart.

Making it seem like it was her decision was the smallest mercy that she could pay him on her part.

"Doctor," she started, at the same time the Doctor said, "Well, that's—"

They fell quiet again and the Doctor raised a prompting hand towards her. Rose nodded a thank you at him, hating the stiffness that had manifested itself between them.

"I—" words failed her for a second.

She started again. "Last time I left, with the Count knocking about in my head and me not having all my marbles as it was, the things I said—"

"You don't have to apologise for that, Rose," he told her, his thoughts immediately heading in a self-depreciating direction.

She gave him an eye-roll and, setting the box containing her life down, stepped closer to him. She didn't miss the flinch he gave when she neared, and thought better of reaching out and touching him.

"I do, though," she told him, "I should apologise for every time I hurt you or put you in danger, but you'd never actually listen so I'm not going to."

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, sad and melancholy. "What I will do, is thank you."

So entranced was the Doctor by the beautiful sadness on Rose's face that he almost didn't register what she'd told him. When he did, though, he frowned.

"For what?" he asked her.

She looked into his eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking up in full. "You really have to ask?" she said in disbelief. She shook her head fondly and, deciding against her better judgement, reached out to trail her fingertips down the side of his face.

"You saved me, Doctor. And I don't just mean today. I don't just mean the hundreds of other times you saved me on our adventures—" her eyes started glistening and her voice thickened, "You saved _me_. You showed me what living really looked like; not just standing back, letting life pass you by, but going out there and seizing it." She gave a soft, heartbreaking chuckle, "How could I ever thank you enough for that?"

"Rose…" he pleaded softly.

"Shh," she hushed him as she allowed her fingers to cover his lips. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but still she remained smiling. "You're still going to do so much. You're going to go out there and you're going to keep being as brilliant as you've always been."

She took a deep breath. "And I'm going to stay here."

She looked at him imploringly, begging him to understand. She knew he didn't. She knew he couldn't. Her fingers slid slowly from his lips, her eyes still holding his.

"Yeah?" she whispered.

She was breaking his heart. She saw it in his entire manner; the set of his jaw, his muscles, the way his eyes seemed brighter than usual…

When he gave her a single nod, it took all her might not to break down.

Her heart once again trumping her mind, she leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Then she pulled away completely, stepped back, picked her belongings up from off the floor and headed on her way.

For at least five steps.

"No, wait. Stop."

She did. She kept her back to him, hiding how badly she wanted to stay.

"I can't," she said in a hard voice.

She heard him approach her. Felt him stand close behind her.

"Why?"

She wasn't going to answer truthfully. Couldn't, really. How would he be able to let her go if he knew the reason for her doing this? It would entail him relinquishing control of the situation, after all, and the Doctor wasn't good at doing that. So, she decided not to answer at all—

—just as a new memory slotting into place in her mind prompted her to say something completely different from what she had intended.

"What happened to me three months ago, Doctor?"

His breath hitched, but she didn't turn.

"The—the Count," she said quietly as newfound images rushed through her mind. She stared sightlessly at the blue of the door leading outside, "When he gave me my memories back, he gave me something else. Something that wasn't mine. Something he'd seen in your mind."

She stopped, leaving a berth for the Doctor to fill with an explanation, ridicule, patronisation, _anything_. Still, however, he said nothing.

"It's me," she said, shocked at the memory, "I'm—I think I'm dead. I'm looking down at myself lying in some morgue and all I feel just—overwhelmingly—is pain. So much pain." She shuddered while it washed over her.

He didn't give her any answers. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, getting hit in the head over and over by the sight of her own corpse.

"Was that—did that really happen?" she asked shakily.

Nothing.

Oh, god.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

It was like the Time Lord was frozen. He didn't even seem to be breathing.

The horror dawned on Rose. Beating her down.

The Doctor not speaking to her properly in months. The fear in his eyes every moment she wandered out of an arm's reach of him. His face, one fateful day after a rather uneventful trip to an abandoned factory…

"Doctor," her voice broke, and she spun around to face him, "_What did you do?!"_

When she caught sight of him, she started.

The tears in his eyes were clear. He looked like he was about to break.

"You lied to me," he finally said, softly.

"What?"

He looked up at her, eyes blazing. "YOU LIED TO ME!" he shouted at her, something snapping inside of him.

Rose took a step backwards, for the first time in her life afraid of him.

He continued, rounding on her. "We were a team, Rose! You and I, we face the monsters together! But you betrayed me! Do you understand, Rose? By making that decision of not telling me, keeping it to yourself, you _betrayed _me! I could've saved you if you'd been honest, but instead you decide to worry about my bloody feelings!"

He stopped for a moment, breathing deeply. When he spoke again, his voice came out softer, yet somehow contained even more gravity.

"Your choice took you away from me, but you want to know the worst part? I couldn't even be angry with you, because everything you'd done—everything you'd kept from me, you'd done it for me. Even after you'd completely abused my trust in you, you were just too _good_. Better than anyone. You were just—Rose."

Rose searched his eyes, hers carrying an impossible amount of sadness and dismay.

"You changed a fixed point in time," she murmured at the same moment the conclusion crashed down on her.

"I had to."

She shook her head, underlying fear and urgency colouring her face. "No, Doctor. It's wrong. You know it is. There's a person alive in the universe that shouldn't be. You know what that causes. We need to—"

And then his lips silenced hers.

The kiss was hard, almost painful. The desperation and the urgency of it had Rose lifting her hands to the Doctor's chest, pushing gently at first and then a little more insistently. He broke away after another moment, breathing deeply and looking at her with dark eyes.

She looked back at him, silent, knowing that her eyes were just as drawn as his. Knowing that, despite the overt wrongness of the situation, something within her screamed of how _right _it felt.

And suddenly, Rose didn't care what he'd done. Was glad, even. It had resulted in them remaining together, and that was the way it should be. She found herself pulling him closer once again, clinging to him by the lapels of his pinstriped jacket.

This kiss was softer, more tender— but also, as they quickly discovered, far more than met the eye. The kiss deepening, the Doctor and Rose grew aware of the fact that neither could bring themselves to stop.

Like a snowball-effect, things spiralled to greater lengths.

Being only blissfully aware of each other, neither noticed their progressive movement. The console room, a TARDIS corridor and, finally, Rose was pressed up against the smooth metal of what she knew to be a bedroom door.

It was there that she removed her arms from their vice-like grip around the Doctor's neck, allowing them to trail down, grasp his hands and drag them up again to rest on her temples.

"Show me," she murmured against his lips.

He knew what she was telling him to do. Were it any other situation he would have refused. But, as it was, he was at his most vulnerable. He needed her.

And so, the Doctor shared with her the pain that he'd buried in his memories, reserved only for his nightmares. Showed her what it felt like to lose her, to feel like he'd lost everything again.

She took it, standing strong against the hurt. Serving as his pillar of strength. Prompting him to show her more.

The memories changed, became filled with fire. Filled with millions of screams. Men, women, children— all shrieking in agony. An entire planet burning.

A man, standing at its helm, crying for his people.

Her knees buckled under the weight of it all. She grabbed the door-handle behind her for support. The door swung open. Rose found her feet and stepped back into the room. The Doctor followed. For a heated moment, the two stared at each other, a question both already knew the answer to hanging between then.

As one door closed, another opened.


	32. Episode 3 Part 1

**Author's note: And the mother of all reposts is finally over! Just wanted to extend a MASSIVE thank you to all those of you who have stuck with my super dramatic and crazy writing antics, especially those who've been waiting for a new episode since January… **

**As I am officially starting up my career as a professional musician (YAY!), updates will be a little slower going now. I'm aiming for about three times a week at this point, but it'll probably wind up depending on my mood eventually.**

**Still, adventure awaits! Don't forget to review and tell me whether you love, hate or occasionally love-hate what you're reading :)**

…

**Episode 3: After**

"_Halla Dextra!_" the Doctor said cheerily, allowing the pink sand to trickle from his fingers like a delicate stream of water.

"And that is?" Rose asked.

Today the two were on a beach, a much-needed quiet destination, on a planet the name of which Rose couldn't even pronounce.

Strange consonant-laden name or not, though, the place was absolutely lovely. The three suns above them were serving to warm from all sides, yet not one was making it overly hot. To further make the beach not a few steps from perfection, the sea water that had lapped at their toes earlier was of a pleasant, tepid nature instead of being cold.

As the Doctor had coined in his reasoning for coming here in the first place, it was the best siesta spot in the universe.

"Chemical component in the sand," the Doctor answered her question, "Creates the sand's pinkish hue. Only planet in the universe that has it." He held some of the sand out for her to see.

Rose, stretched out on the sun-baked earth contentedly and basking in the light, took some of the sand from him and allowed it to run through her own fingers. She smiled up at him when her hand was empty once again. "And that's the same component that's making the sky pink, yeah?"

"Nope," the Doctor grinned, clearly enjoying being a know-it-all very much, "That's _Guevron-3_, though good reasoning on why it might be."

Rose rolled her eyes at him fondly. "Oh, alright then. And the pink sea water's got some other chemical in it too, I suppose?

"Now you're getting it," he said, smile widening at her slight exasperation with him. He shifted from where he had been lying on his back beside her, propping himself up on his elbows to better meet her gaze, "_Zarkonian_, they call it. Means _Liquid of the gods_ in Adamantian. They tend to harvest it for its quote-unquote 'magical properties', though personally I'm pretty happy just looking at it from afar."

"So," Rose sat up and looked at her beatific surroundings, hiding her smile from him, "Everything's pink."

The Doctor sat up, too, looking as though he thought he deserved a prize. "Everything's pink!" he reiterated.

She turned to him, and this time the smile on her face was sly. She was going to take him down a peg or two today. "You know, pink's not actually my favourite colour."

He looked positively crestfallen.

"It's not?"

"Nope," she popped the "p" in the same way he always did. She didn't even realise she'd done it until she had. "I've always liked blue more."

He clutched at his chest dramatically. "Oh, Rose."

"What?"

"Rose Tyler."

"What?!"

"You wound me."

Rose laughed, swatting him playfully against the shoulder. "Shut up!"

"There's me, tirelessly typing away coordinates, going through all the trouble of taking you to this frankly magnificent destination, and now you tell me that all that work I did to impress you didn't even put a dent in your impressionability?"

She laughed even harder, leaning against him. "Drama Queen."

"Oi!"

Despite his so-called dramatic antics, the Doctor was very much aware that Rose Tyler was, in fact, impressed. It wasn't every day a bloke took you out to a planet that was (at least in his mind) decked out completely in your favourite colour, after all. Especially since it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing for said bloke to come up with.

He turned his head to where his companion sat, looking beautiful as always in her barely-there blue bathing suit (that might have been a clue) and the strategically designed sundress that she wore over it.

Not that he would ever say it out loud, but sitting there, just watching, enjoying, _being__—_he'd give up a hell of a lot to continue down this road for an eternity.

He was pulled from his mildly embarrassing fantasies when he realised that Rose's attentions were elsewhere. Up in the sky, to be more precise. Her eyes trailing upwards, her mouth was open in a small "o" of awe that had the Doctor slowly following her path of vision to where her gaze was unequivocally centred.

"What's that?" she inquired, trailing her hand up the same journey as her eyes to point to the massive thing hanging above their heads.

As if it needed pointing out.

"It's—" he trailed off as he took in the gaping maw of the black hole that took up, rather obviously and overtly, the larger part of the rosy, Adamantian sky.

How, exactly, had they come to miss _that_?

"It's a black hole," she finished for him in a flat voice. "Doctor, how are we sitting here with a black hole less than an atmosphere above our heads?"

The pit of darkness in itself was of such a hypnotic nature that the Doctor found even his powerful mind becoming foggier the longer he stared at it. He couldn't keep his eyes from it for very long either, however, as its dormancy and stillness filled him with a distressing sense of foreboding that had him grasping at Rose's hand and hoisting the both of them to their feet.

"Doctor?" he could hear the building note of alarm in her voice.

"Remember how in films they say that black holes are gateways to other universes?"

"Yeah, I asked you about that on Krop Tor. You said that that one wasn't." She paused just long enough for the implication of his question to sink in effectively. "Hold on. Are you saying that this one _is_?"

Not answering, the Doctor started pulling Rose away and in the direction of the spot he'd parked the TARDIS in. This specific Q and A could continue once they were both out of harm's way. "Come on!" he told Rose urgently when he felt her resist his call to action.

"Doctor," she called him back, the odd tone of her voice causing him to do a bit of a double-take, "What's happening to it?"

Glancing over his shoulder could have possibly been catalogued as a mistake, but when the Doctor caught sight of what Rose was staring at, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

The black hole was moving. Changing, he realised shortly after. It was as though the cracks of darkness in the sky were being filled up with light, the black hole as a result turning into a—well—a _white _hole.

A hole in time.

Suddenly, Rose was looking back at him accusingly.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

He pulled ineffectually at her hand to signal that they needed to move.

"Doctor," she stood fast, looking angrier and sadder than he'd ever seen her, "_What did you do?!_"

The Doctor grasped Rose around the waist and pulled her clear as a large, pink tree flew past them and into the bowels of the elemental beast overhead. This seemed to set off a chain of destruction, as the tree was quickly followed by more and more debris.

Once again, this time in a full-blown state of panic, the Doctor grabbed Rose's hand and started pulling her away. Back to the TARDIS, back to safety, whatever it took…

"No!" he heard her wind-swept protest against his grasp just as he grabbed hold of his steady, blue box.

He whipped his head around, seeing Rose where she was struggling to free herself from his iron grip. His eyes bugged at the sight and he tightened his hand around hers threefold as the suction from the destructive force above increased.

"Let go of me!" she screamed again, most of the cry's volume lost in the howling that hurt their ears with its magnitude.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing_?!" he shouted back, straining against her and the wind in equal measure as he tried to pull her with him.

"This is because of me!" she told him loudly, eyes wide and hazel and earnest, "I'm the one who has to fix it!"

It only took a beat for him to realise what she was talking about. When he did, his eyes flew between her face and the tear in the sky at least a dozen times before he found his voice again.

"No," he said with finality, "No, you're not doing that."

"Doctor," somehow, impossibly he would say, she managed to pull her hand free from his grip. He found himself frozen to the spot as he watched a golden glow appear in her eyes and intensify. He couldn't even bring himself to wonder how it was possible that she was suddenly resisting the force of the black hole where she stood before him.

Rose caressed his cheek softly.

"That's not your decision to make."

And abruptly, Rose was moving away from him. If the force of the hole was anything to go by, she was probably moving rather rapidly. But to the Time Lord, time had slowed. Slowed milliseconds to minutes. Every instance was agony.

He screamed. He begged. He cried.

With one last vestige of energy tapped by the immeasurable grief the Doctor felt, he said her name.

And then woke up.


	33. Episode 3 Part 2

_Please be alright._

The first thing that the Doctor became aware of was the fact that he was underwater.

_Please be alright._

The ocean, most probably, as he could quite clearly hear the dull roar of the tide washing over his head.

He could feel the water surrounding him; making his movements languid, dulling his ears—it gave the air around him a certain density, making it difficult for him to breathe properly without his respiratory bypass kicking in. He couldn't quite remember when exactly he'd decided on taking this rather disconcerting swim.

_Please, please, please be alright._

The second thing that the Doctor became aware of was that he _wasn't _underwater. How could he be, his big brain reasoned, as he had no memory of having landed the TARDIS anywhere near a body of swimmable liquid?

He tried visualise his head surfacing from the depths of the figurative water surrounding him, tried to picture himself surrounded by fresh air and sunshine as he had been in the better half of the dream he'd had instead.

_Don't do this to me._

This course of action would suffice, wouldn't it? Positive thoughts for a metaphorical destination.

Unless he was developing a serious case of Somnambulism, there was absolutely no way he could have literally piloted his ship to such a place without noticing, after all.

_I need you, Doctor._

And that sound bit of logic brought around the third and final thing that the Doctor became aware of:

Something wasn't right.

Mysterious destination, no knowledge of how he came to be here—the attributes very clearly spelt trouble for the Time Lord. And so soon after the previous incident, too. He was starting to think that catching himself in the thick of it was his special power_._

Although, he thought wryly, it probably wasn't doing him any good just lying around and thinking about it, either.

_Come back to me._

Right. First things first, he needed to open his eyes. He'd closed them for some reason, it seemed. He wouldn't very well be able to see the problem if he couldn't—well—_see_, would he?

He tried.

He tried again.

And once more.

Then he heaved a heavy groan (hopefully not just in mind) as he realised that his body wasn't allowing him to. It screamed out in protest when he tried, telling him that he didn't possibly have enough energy to achieve a feat as daring as lifting his eyelids. He frowned at the feeling (once again hoping that this gesture would not only be restricted to the bounds of his mind) and wondered at how exactly that was possible. He'd never actually reached this point of exhaustion; the point at which one was almost too tired to breathe.

Oh, he'd been near this precipice, certainly. He'd even been over it one or two (or ten) times. But he couldn't recall a time in which he'd really, truly felt as dead as a corpse. Not physically, at least. Not as if some invisible force was pinning him to the ground, allowing wave after wave of non-existent water to wash over him.

Really, why did he keep hearing muffled ocean sounds rushing over his still form? Was this his body's way of telling him that he'd finally gone insane?

If it was, it was all in all not as bad a feeling as he'd thought it would have been.

For a while he just lay there, his mind strangely empty and peaceful considering the fact that he was, at the moment, completely powerless. He found it quite soothing, he decided, not being in control for once. It was a nice change of pace for him.

_Please come back to me._

What was he doing?

Suddenly, the charade snapped like a twig. This wasn't peaceful. This wasn't peaceful at all.

He was being held here against his will! He couldn't even see who or what the enemy was! He needed to get out of here. Needed to find out what the hell was going on and—and—

Oh, Rassilon. Rose.

Where was Rose?!

The dream played back in the Doctor's mind like a film, and he found himself wondering fearfully how much truth to it there had really been. It sent him into a full-blown state of panic to think that it might have been something that had actually happened, though his mind simply refused to acknowledge the possibility of Rose being lost to him forever. There was just no way that he'd accept that, even if it was the truth. Not ever.

He tried to move once again and felt irritation and anger course through him when he couldn't bring himself to. Paralysis was frustrating, to say the least.

Then, out of nowhere, the most random and simultaneously useful of thoughts lazily drifted to the forefront of his mind.

It was a small tidbit of information; something he'd learnt at the Academy, oh, so many years ago. He knew full well that he wasn't actually supposed to know of the technique, much less use it. But who would there be to stop him if he did?

And so, the Doctor searched the very recesses of his mind, diving down deep into its core until he found what he was looking for:

His artron energy reserves.

Though most beings harboured certain amounts of it, this specific energy was especially significant to Time Lords. Blood in the veins, artron in the mind. Without, a Time Lord could not exist. Blood powered all the major workings of the body, but perhaps more importantly, artron powered the brain. The energy powered a mainframe; controlled what a Time Lord thought, what he communicated to others. Controlled when and if he healed himself by regenerating…

In themselves, artron particles were smart. They were capable of carrying small amounts of their subject's consciousness, allowing said subject to essentially _feel _his surroundings. It was only to be used by the most senior of Time Lords, of course, and even then only in the most dire of situations.

Well, this situation seemed pretty dire, and luckily the Doctor was currently the most senior Time Lord in the universe.

It took more effort than the Doctor had expected to expel the artron. He'd done this before when regenerating, but all those times it had been excess energy that he'd released. Not a part of his very life force. He'd never actually tried to focus on the particles and what they told him, either.

Extracting the small amount of energy hurt. Trying to keep his mental hold on the particles as they travelled around inside his head even more so. But eventually he managed to manoeuvre the energy down to his slack-jawed mouth—

Where he was immediately assaulted by an onslaught of dread and despair.

_No. No, no, no, don't you dare regenerate, do you hear me? Please, please don't do that. I just__—__I'll stay. You know I will, but__—__just don't, alright? You and me, we still need to go places. See sights with those eyes of yours. Alright? Just__—__Doctor, don't leave me. Not now. _

It was odd how comforting the mental messages (had those been there all along?) were despite their loudness and desperation reverberating in his mind. How very familiar the way in which the words laced with faint traces of golden sunshine-light were…

He felt the artron particles spreading through the air above him.

What a strange feeling it was; like a phantom limb, but completely detached from his body.

The particles encountered something. A single presence besides him in whichever space he was situated. It was quite close, too. All warm and good and familiar.

_Oh. Oh right, I understand. Here, let me help you._

The presence shifted closer, and the Doctor found that he was happier because of it. He felt the overt change in his body as his frazzled nerves were calmed exponentially.

When it moved even closer, the Doctor abruptly felt a jolt followed by a pleasant electricity running through every single nerve-ending he possessed. Then, a steady stream of energy started filling his body. Timidly at first, and then more and more rapidly. Finally, he found the strength to open his eyes.

His blurry vision betrayed that his eyes had been closed for a long time. He had to blink several times before the unfocused splotches of peach and red and gold became a face.

Rose's face.

Safe, healthy and with him. Her eyes that gorgeous shade of hazel he'd grown to love.

It was the best sight he could have possibly woken up to.

She was staring down at him, beaming in relief and with clear tear tracks on her cheeks.

"You're awake," he barely had a chance to hear before she'd seized his lips with hers.

The kiss lingered just a little over the amount of time anything chaste should. The way her hands gripped his shoulders tightly wasn't very chaste, either. Though he was too shocked at the sudden, intimate contact to respond in any kind of way, the Doctor couldn't say that he didn't enjoy it. It was certainly quite potent in the way the kiss seemed to set every cell in his body alight.

The relief was also catching, as the Doctor found himself nearly overwhelmed by it when Rose pulled back. She looked at him for a moment longer, hands moving down to rest over his twin hearts, before frowning and giving him a little shove.

"Don't you _ever_ do that to me again," she told him seriously.

He felt a small spark of anger flare at the back of his mind. He had no idea who it was aimed at. Himself, most probably.

The Doctor tried to sit up, but Rose held him back with a restraining hand. "Take it easy," she told him wisely, "You've not been up and about for a while now."

"What—" he rasped. He winced at the sound and cleared his throat, "What happened?"

Surprisingly, Rose blushed a little at the question. The Doctor cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, to which she turned a deeper shade of pink and averted her eyes slightly.

"H—How much do you remember?" she all but mumbled.

The Doctor thought back, realising that he really didn't know the answer to that question himself. What did he remember? He remembered Dracula, certainly. Remembered Rose losing her memories, unfortunately. Remembered her telling him that she was still leaving him after she'd gotten her memories back, remembered not wanting to let her go but knowing he had to, remembered—

Oh.

_Oh_.

Oh—Rassilon.

Apparently seeing the moment the epiphany struck him, a nervous giggle (a slightly hysterical one at that) escaped her lips.

"Yeah," she said awkwardly.

"We—"

"Yup."

"Together."

"That's usually how it works," she said, giving another little, anxious laugh.

When the Doctor tried sitting up once again, Rose didn't stop him. From his new vantage point, he was able to take in his surroundings, though there wasn't really much to see as it was. Everything around him was white; almost painfully so. It seemed that he was sitting on the floor.

"We're in the zero room," he realised.

"We are," Rose confirmed, and the Doctor noticed for the first time that she was sitting on the flat, white surface beside him, "The TARDIS told me to take you here after—everything. Something about how Time Lords use this place during difficult regenerations."

She looked up at him, her eyes carrying a faint hint of wry bemusement. "Now _that_ would have been a useful bit of information last Christmas, don't you think?"

"Well how should I have known that this particular regeneration was going to turn out to be so fickle?" he justified, quickly falling into his old self again, "It's not as if I get a memo about these things beforehand."

"Yeah, mentioning the fact that you regenerate at all might've been a good starting point," she said with an eye roll, "Exploding like that without any kind of warning as to what was going on—I was well on my way to attacking and interrogating you by the time you started babbling nonsense."

The Doctor chuckled. "On your way? I seem to recall you interrogating me quite a bit. Shoved me around, too."

Rose's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Had to find out who kidnapped you somehow."

He met her eyes and a full-blown grin made itself known on his face. "My hero."

Rose couldn't help but smile back, and for a moment the two were content with just sitting there in silence, staring at each other. Soon, though, the fleeting joy vanished from her face and she bit her lip.

"We need to talk about what happened," she told him seriously.

Eyes widening slightly, the Doctor suddenly became very uncomfortable.

Rose was right, obviously. What had transpired the previous evening needed to be talked about. Of course it did. Out of all the little moments that the Doctor and Rose had shared in the past, moments in which the level of intimacy between them had gone above and beyond that of a simple Time Lord- companion relationship, this specific instance was not something that could be overlooked. It was something that needed to be acknowledged, no matter what the repercussions were. Acknowledged for what it had really been.

Because they hadn't just shagged last night. They'd made love.

It would be an outright lie to say that he hadn't thought about it over the years. How could he not have? She was, in a word, perfect. And it wasn't as though they'd ever really been platonic, however much he'd tried for them to remain that way.

He'd just never pictured the act being the apparent inevitability it had turned out to be. He'd thought himself strong enough to be able to resist the temptation. Or rather, too much of a coward to give in to it.

Evidently, he'd been wrong on both counts.

So he opened his mouth to talk. He had the expressed intention to lay all his cards out in front of her this go around; he wouldn't get caught in an ever thickening web of deception again.

Then something that had been unknowingly gnawing at his brain abruptly pounced.

"Hold on. Did you just say that you were talking to the TARDIS?"


	34. Episode 3 Part 3

"Doctor," Rose tried to protest as she was hauled off down the halls of the TARDIS.

She might have been impressed with his ability to gather his bearings so quickly, jumping up from the zero room floor and zipping from the space with her in tow as he did, but as it was she found herself more than a little exasperated with him. _Especially _when, the next moment, the Time Lord had rushed them into the med bay and had plonked her down on a sterile, white gurney.

"Doctor," she tried again, to no avail.

He was already preoccupied by a scanner of some sort, agile fingers working at the switches and dials of the instrument in the deepest of concentration. While looking over at him, Rose's mind abruptly flashed back to a time when those fingers had softly run over her torso…

She shook her head. She needed to focus on the now.

"Haven't used this thing in a long while," the Doctor muttered mostly to himself as he came to stand in front of her. He gave the device (which looked to contain pieces of a long ago dismembered toaster) a light smack before running the small blue light that then emanated from it over her.

"If you're talking to the TARDIS it means that she's strengthened her link with you," he explained, frowning etching deeper into his brow as he briefly met her eyes, "You seem to be coping, but it could be that you're just having a delayed reaction to your heightened artron levels. Best to look you over with an artron irradiation scanner just to be certain…" he trailed off when the scanner beeped and the strange symbols on its screen caught his eye.

Rose sighed, making to pull the scanner from his hands. "Doctor, just stop for a minute, yeah? I need to explain some things to you, and I think it's best if we—"

She wasn't captivating any of his attention, however, as he held fast to the device and looked at it with steadily widening eyes. "That's—" his tongue flailed around, grasping for a sufficient explanation and coming up with none. Finally, he looked at her fully. "That's impossible."

He stared at her in awe.

Then he dropped the scanner right on the floor where he stood, and in a flash of desperate confusion grabbed her shoulders in a gentle yet firm grip. "Rose, what in the name of Rassilon is going on?"

Oh, so _now _he's listening, she thought dryly.

The TARDIS, of course, had filled her in on everything that had happened while the Doctor had been recovering. As it was, she was still busy wrapping her own head around it all. It wasn't exactly information to just be processed and moved on from. Even with the TARDIS's continued support all the while, she still wasn't sure she understood it completely. At this point, there was a sum total of one thing that she was still absolutely certain of:

She and the Doctor needed to deal with this together.

But this particular issue took a backseat to more immediate dangers when Rose felt a faint bout of nausea at the back of her mind and looked up to see the Doctor's face paler than it ought to be. She also noticed that there seemed to be a subtle sway to his stance.

Swiftly, Rose pulled his hands from her shoulders and, keeping a hold on them, stood up from the gurney, swinging them around until he was the one with his back to its surface. Once there, she gently pushed him to sit, effectively reversing their positions. The Doctor's face was comically dumbstruck as he appeared to take a moment to realise what had just happened.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Rose was quick to lift a finger to his lips. "Shut up a second, alright?" she told him sternly, "You've been out for a long while. You can't just shake something like that off and start parading around again as though none of it ever happened."

His eyebrows lifted high and he raised a hand to lower her finger from his mouth, but to her relief he didn't try to stand up again. "What's a while?" he asked her suspiciously.

She suddenly found a far corner of the room far more interesting than his face. "It's been—a few days, I suppose," she purposely evaded a direct answer.

"How many are a few?"

She bit her lip. "'Round about—" she met his eyes, relenting, "Probably 'round seven."

"_A week?!_"

And then he was getting up again. God, the man just couldn't keep still.

"It's alright," Rose attempted to placate him while he started ripping out drawers and throwing around devices and instruments of steadily increasing absurdity.

"No, Rose," he spoke over her, preoccupied with his hands and his machines and the tumble of thoughts that made the back of Rose's mind restless, "You don't understand. Me being asleep that long, it means that I've been in a restorative coma. A _coma_, Rose. It's something my body does to heal itself when I'm injured."

He flicked a glance over his shoulder, levelling her with a solemn look. "Severely injured."

Then he turned back again, babbling on and oblivious to the fact that Rose was inching closer to where he stood. "We need to find out what did that to me, 'cause it might explain why your artron readings are so high. Chances are then that the scanner's picking up the excess radiation around you from being in close proximity to me. I'd have to do tests to be certain—"

The next moment Rose had stepped squarely in front of him, her hands on his, stilling them. He stopped talking and looked down at their joined hands for a moment, at last realising that something had been hanging unspoken between them.

Well, something besides the obvious.

"What is it?" he asked her.

Rose conveyed all manner of gravity through her expression. "I know what's happening."

His brow crinkled, his hands flipping over and grasping hers almost of their own accord. He pulled her closer, scrutinising her face with his meticulously trained eyes. "There's something about you. Something—different. What's happened?"

Rose laughed. A quiet, slightly rueful sound. The Doctor arched an eyebrow, inquiring for some information.

"I practised this in my head while you were unconscious," she informed him, "How I would tell you. Now I can't even remember any of it."

"Rose," the Doctor pleaded, growing impatient.

"Yeah, sorry," she said with a shake of the head and a frown, "Alright, um, I suppose I'll start with when it happened. When we—" she lifted her brows meaningfully.

It didn't take long for comprehension to flicker on his face and even quicker for the accompanying blush to make its appearance. He even extricated a hand from her grasp and pulled at his ear sheepishly. "Right."

She blew out a breath in embarrassment, irritated by the fact that they were dealing with this particular subject matter like two inexperienced teenagers rather than the adults they were. But that was just how life with the Doctor ran, it seemed.

"Yeah," she forced herself to continue, "Do you—er—do you remember any of that?"

The Doctor had the common decency to avert his eyes at the question. "Oh—yeah—I mean, yeah. Superior biology, me, I remember everything," he gave a sort of strangled chuckle, "It was good. I mean—it was for me, at least. It was brilliant, actually." The ghost of a true grin appeared on his face.

Rose couldn't deny that her heart warmed impossibly at the statement, nor could she deny that her face happened to warm right along with it. "Yeah," she said shyly, determined to return the sentiment, "Yeah, it was—pretty amazing here, too."

She thought she saw a hint of smugness cross his face at her words, and then briefly toyed with the idea of either snogging or slapping him right there and then for it, but instead soldiered on. "But that's not what I mean."

"Oh?"

She turned serious. "No."

She could see that he was wracking his brain then. Could feel it, too. The feeling was akin to uncomfortable; the speed with which he filed through the memory databanks in his mind. Like a super computer. Rose felt faint hints of doubt, confusion and then pleasure in her psyche's recesses as he recalled what had transpired between them a week ago.

Then, suddenly, all forms of activity stopped. His mind drew a complete blank.

And she knew he'd hit pay dirt.

The next memory he had was so loud that Rose could almost hear the words verbally spoken to her ears. Spoken back in her own voice.

_I consent and gladly give..._


	35. Episode 3 Part 4

At that moment, there was a knock to the console room door.

"That'll be Mum," Rose said to the still-frozen Doctor. She looked at him in concern and opened her mouth to ask him if he was going to be alright. She knew full well that the silence she now felt at the back of her mind was him purposefully blocking off their link. She closed her mouth again into a thin line and headed out of the med bay without another word.

"I brought us some tea," Jackie told her when she opened the door, holding up a grocery bag.

No matter how many times Rose had told her mother that they had a perfectly fine stock of the drink on board, she kept bringing it around. Rose had already accepted that this was really her mother's way of checking up on her. On the both of them, probably.

Jackie's expression turned sympathetic as she took in the dark circles that had taken up residence underneath her daughter's eyes the past few days. She made a mental note to ask Rose when the last time had been that she'd slept. "How's he doing?" she asked.

Rose made to answer, but a voice at her back beat her to it.

"I'm fine," the Doctor answered. Rose's stomach flip-flopped nervously when she heard some unidentifiable emotion serving as an undertone to his words.

"'Ere, if it isn't Himself!" Jackie exclaimed in what was likely meant to be annoyance. Not even an idiot would miss the clear relief in her voice, though.

"Yeah, sorry for the delay," he joked half-heartedly.

He was making a point of not looking at Rose, which scared her to no end. Apparently she wasn't the only one to notice the fact of this particular matter either, as Jackie then looked between the two of them in what she probably thought to be an inconspicuous manner.

For once deciding not to make light of the obvious tension in the room, Jackie fixed Rose with a big, fake smile. "Right! Tea," she marched off towards the kitchen, clearly expecting the two of them to follow.

They did follow. In complete silence. Even though Rose stared at him imploringly as they walked, the Doctor kept his gaze nailed firmly ahead of him. The rejection stung, and Rose had to swallow down a lump in her throat at her heightened sensitivity towards him. She thought she saw the Doctor give an almost inaudible flinch as she did.

Reaching the kitchen, Rose had finally had enough.

_Are you alright? _She sent out the mental message to him where he was staring at Jackie busying herself with boiling the kettle and taking out mugs on the far side of the room.

_You're not meant to be able to do that, _he answered her curtly after a moment, still not looking at her.

_The TARDIS showed me_, Rose justified. _It's how I've been communicating with her as well._

_Yes, but you're not supposed to be able to do this, period. The human brain barely has the capacity to attain background radiation from travelling through the Vortex, let alone enough artron to manage a two-sided telepathic conversation. None of this makes any sense, Rose._

Some of the frustration that he was feeling briefly slipped through the barrier the Doctor had erected between their opposite ends of the link. Rose found her fists curling tightly at her sides in response, feeling her own frustration rise to rival his own.

_Doctor,_ she said firmly, _look at me. _

He glanced down at her, his eyes giving her a glimpse of the turmoil that he was hiding from her.

_You don't understand what I've done to you, Rose,_ he told her darkly. _Once you do, you'll hate me. I know you will. And now there isn't anything either of us can do about it._

She shook her head at him disbelievingly.

_Doctor, I could never hate you_, she told him earnestly.

He was already looking at her doubtfully in response, his face betraying years upon years of past disappointment and heartache begging to differ.

_And the TARDIS already told me what happened, _she tried to set his mind at ease further. _She already told me about us forming a link and her being able to form a stronger link with me because of the bond you and her have. That's what knocked you out too, yeah? The combined energy of our link was a lot for you to handle after so long of it being just you and her. I am sorry about that, but I'll never be sorry about us forming this between us. I consented to this just as much as you did._

But all through her speech, his face just became more and more patronising. By the end of it, he was looking at her as though she was some kind of naïve child blathering on about her fanciful dreams to the world at large.

Oh, she _hated _it when he acted superior.

_Rose, _he started, his eyes heavy and old and sad. _It isn't that easy. If it was, all of this wouldn't have been such a big issue. But it is. And I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry for doing this to you. And now I can't even__—__I haven't even__—__Rose, I can't tell you how horrible I feel for doing this._

He was coming undone at the seams. Rose couldn't quite feel it, but she could certainly see. His eyes were like ever-deepening black holes, sucking any and all happiness that she'd felt at his recovery, the advances they'd made in their relationship, their newfound openness away. Meeting his darkened eyes, all she could bring herself to ask was one, vulnerable question.

_Do you regret doing this with me?_

He didn't answer her, but Rose more than caught the gist of what was being implied. It felt like a shot to the heart. She couldn't help the dampening of her eyes, and felt even worse knowing that the Doctor could feel every inch of how much he was hurting her.

She quickly asked a follow-up question before he could manage an already botched attempt to console her.

_Why?_

His answer was short and to the point. It said just enough.

_Because you don't deserve to be with someone like me._

Had she stopped to consider what he'd really meant through the statement, Rose might have come to the conclusion that it had been meant completely differently to how she'd heard it. But, as the way she'd heard it suddenly confirmed one of her most deep-seated insecurities from over the past few years, all she could bring herself to hear was the sound of her own heart breaking.

The Doctor obviously had to feel it too, because the next moment his eyes widened and some of his distraught emotions slipped through the barrier as his guard dropped ever so slightly. Fearing a repeat of the incident that had ended with her leaving him, he was quick to reprieve.

_No, Rose, you know I didn't mean it like__—_

_It's fine, _she told him, her mental voice suspiciously lacking in emotion. _I know what you meant. You don't think we should be together. I get it. You have your reasons. You want to break the link, right? Go back to being friends?_

_No._

Her eyes snapped up to his face in shock. She took in his expression; jaw taut, eyes stormy—she could feel it coming on as she looked up at him. Complications closing in, in three, two…

_The link can't be broken._

One.

_What? _She asked in stupefaction.

_That's what a Gallifreyan bond is, _he explained, face still tight. _It's unbreakable. It's forever. In all of time and space, there's only one thing that can break it._

She remained uncomprehending.

_Which is?_

He looked at her evenly until it clicked.

_Oh._

_Yeah._

_Death._

_Yes._

Rose shook her head, keeping with her inherent stubbornness obstinately. _Well__—__well, then we just deal with that, yeah? I mean__—__Doctor, I promised you my forever a long time ago. This really just affirms that, doesn't it?_

To her dismay, his expression didn't lighten at all. There was no acceptance or relief. Only more dread. Rose got the sneaking suspicion that there was more to the matter than that.

_What else? _She demanded of him.

His mind was silent for a while. It drove Rose mad, quite frankly. Just when the expectation had reached the point of almost physical discomfort for her, he answered her. Slow and measured. As though he were considering his words very, very carefully.

_In creating the bond, two life forms are essentially consenting to tying themselves to one another for all of their lives. In Time Lord Society, the act was frowned upon but not unheard of for a Time Lord to bond with a non-Time Lord. It was well-known that the breaking of a bond was a very painful and even at times incapacitating experience for the subject left behind after the death of his or her mate, and with a Time Lord's life-expectancy spanning so far beyond that of the average Gallifreyan, the experience of having the bond for such a short period of time was especially taxing._

He looked down at her, seeing Rose's enrapturement with his story and revelling in what would no doubt be the last time in which she'd look at him with anything other than hurt and disappointment. He continued on:

_No one knows why the few exceptional cases constituted a change in the entire way the practice was conducted. Legend has it that Rassilon himself had bonded with a non-Time Lord and had forfeited the bond to time. Whatever the reason, however, it was then introduced into the culture that the life-expectancies of the two individuals would be tied together, the subject with the longest lifespan gifting this to the latter until such a time in which the bond was broken. Their combined timelines effectively tethered together. Forever._

Forever.

Rose only realised that he'd stopped talking in her mind when she realised that the loud word pounding away at her brain was of its own design.

She didn't think she'd heard him right, though. Maybe she hadn't come to the conclusion he'd meant for her to come to during the telling of his story. Because, _if _she'd heard correctly, he was obviously speaking nonsense. Right? This just—just _couldn't_ be possible. _Right?!_ There was absolutely no way in hell, heaven or earth that she could be—

It wasn't possible that she was—

"I'm—" she choked on the words out loud.

She could feel the blood draining from her face inch by inch, bile rising in her throat in shock. Could feel the tensing of her muscles as, for some reason, her fight or flight response kicked in. Could feel in stark detail a hand, _his _hand, tracking small bolts of electricity across her skin, hear calming thoughts pleading with her in her mind and battling with the hollow ringing in her ears.

The way she saw it, Rose was about to take one of two courses of action.

One, her senses were going to overpower her. The shock that was causing her vision to flicker at the edges was going to seize her body in full swing. She would faint and, no doubt, the Doctor would catch her, fuss over her a bit, and all would be fine. It would all be terribly mortifying, she was afraid, but she figured that she was already quite obviously dealing with this news rather badly. Fainting wouldn't make the situation all that much worse in the greater scheme of things.

The second was the not-fainting option. With her adrenaline levels being where they were, her body was either going to deal with it by stopping moving altogether or moving _a lot_. Her legs were practically egging her on to bolt. Additionally, it would get her away from him for a bit. Much as she hated to admit it, she really needed that at this point. His very presence was making processing all of this even more difficult. He was overstimulating her already stimulated-to-death senses.

Not a second passed and she'd made her decision.

The next moment, she'd legged it.

Ignoring the shouted calls of her name over her shoulder, she ran blindly. Ran and ran. Somehow, most likely owing to the TARDIS sensing her need to get away, she wound up finding the console room and exiting the ship. Outside, the rarely bright sunlight stung her eyes, but still she didn't stop. She felt like she was engaging in her all too normal day job of running for her life, only now she was actually running _from _it.

She didn't care. She just needed to get away.

Blurrily colourful shapes told her that she was passing the park. Passing the old swings where she'd sat all her life; first with Mickey and Shareen and then, more recently, with the Doctor. She kept on running, hoping upon hope that her inability to pay attention to her surroundings wouldn't cause her to meet the same end as her father—

—when she smacked into something soft and warm and gangly.

For a mad second, the shadow of the man who gripped her shoulders to steady her reminded her of the Doctor in its familiarity. As her vision cleared, however, she realised that there was a completely different reason for her finding the figure as familiar as she did.

As the handsome, dark-haired man spoke, he just affirmed her beliefs.

"Whoa, whoa, where are you going, love?"

He squinted down at her, eyes widening as he took in her face. "Blimey. Rose, is that you?"

It was Jimmy Stone.


	36. Episode 3 Part 5

**Author's note: Hey everyone! Hope you're all still doing good! Just a clarifying remark: I know that people (myself included) usually characterise Jimmy Stone as an abusive bastard, but for the purposes of building his character in this series, I've decided to take him into a slightly different direction. **

**Fun fact, by the way: "Jimmy" is slang for cannabis and "Stone" slang for being high. It seems that Mr. Russel T Davies was trying to get a very clear message across about Jimmy's extra-curriculars when creating the name :D**

…

Of all the reactions he'd been expecting, _that_ had hardly been at the top of the list.

"Right barmy the two of you are," Jackie said angrily. She'd spilt about half of the contents of her tea out over herself when Rose had legged it and was now staring at the spot her daughter had vanished in dismay. "One minute the two of you are staring at each other for god knows how long, and the next she sets off running!"

She turned to the Doctor with murder in her eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

Slitheen, no problem. Daleks, Cybermen, Zygons, please. The Doctor would face them down in a heartbeat. Defeat them in even less. But give him a fuming Jackie Tyler, and he was heading the opposite way. _Especially _now that she was effectively—he swallowed—his _mother-in-law_.

And so the Doctor bolted, hearing an infuriated shout of "OI!" over his shoulder and the sound of Jackie-footsteps following as he went.

He tracked Rose's movements easily (while simultaneously keeping a healthy distance between himself and Jackie), every so often taking note of her warring emotions as well. Among the tumult of things Rose was feeling, the most the Doctor could discern was a single-minded determination to get away from—well—_him_. That hurt, to say the least, and the Doctor had to forcefully keep his thoughts from straying down a path on which Rose would forever harbour resentment towards him for the foolish actions of one evening.

When Rose briefly had a thought of going the same way as her father while crossing a busy road, the Doctor sped up his pace. It was no secret that the thought of Rose getting harmed in any way had always held a deeply negative connotation for him, but now with the link they shared intact, it seemed almost as though it caused him physical pain.

Suddenly, a bout of pain of pain rolled through the back of the Doctor's mind. Rose had collided with something. The Doctor skirted across the bustling road fast as he could, narrowly missing a speeding double-decker in the process.

Recognition became evident in his mind, and the Doctor knew that she'd found someone she knew. That was good. Maybe seeing a friend or an acquaintance would have a calming effect on her.

Maybe not.

The Doctor finally caught sight of her—in the arms of another man.

With no thought other than getting the offender's hands the hell off his mate, the Doctor marched over. He grasped Rose around the waist and moved her so that her chest touched his back without much preamble. Then he levelled a glare at the stranger, a prat of a bloke with long arms and legs, a boyish face and thick, dark hair. No sideburns though, so that was good.

_Sideburns. Really? _He heard Rose's voice in his head.

_Heard that, did you? _He asked sheepishly.

_Yeah well, turns out acting like a git takes more brain power than one might think_, she grumbled.

"New bloke, then?" the stranger asked lightly, leaning to the side to better meet Rose's eyes.

"Yeah, something like that," she said, at the same time the Doctor replied with an adamant "Yes."

"Well," the man said, looking the Doctor over with a twinkle in his baby-blues, "Gotta have respect for a man who parades around in his jim-jams with confidence!"

To the Doctor's dismay, he heard Rose give a stifled snort behind him at this. He scowled deeply at the man. Overall, he reminded the Doctor dangerously of a lanky Jack Harkness, and there were already enough of those running about. Of course, he wasn't going to allow himself to see this new arrival as another one of Rose's pretty-boys. He knew that she wouldn't do that to him. Not now. She absolutely wouldn't—

Hold on. Did said pratty bloke just say that he was in his jim-jams?

When the Doctor looked down, he realised that he was, indeed, not wearing his usual pinstriped armour. No, instead he was garbed much as he had been last Christmas in equally stripy though not quite as pleasing flannels and a deep blue dressing gown. At least this time it seemed that the pyjamas belonged to him and not one of Jackie's boyfriends, though.

"Nothing wrong with a jaunt in one's jim-jams," he defended weakly, feeling his ego becoming slightly bruised.

"Quite right!" the man announced, cheerily lifting a hand towards him, "Jimmy Stone, by the way. And you are?"

Jimmy Stone.

The Doctor rolled the name around in his ears, trying to come up with a reason why it sounded so familiar. Jimmy Stone. Where had he heard that name before?

Then it dawned on him.

_Jimmy Stone? _He asked Rose.

_The one and only, _she confirmed.

_Took-all-your-money-and-got-you-kicked-out-of-your-flat Jimmy Stone?_

_Yep._

The Doctor turned back to the man, now impossibly liking him even less. He was just about to deliver a biting and undeniably witty remark, when a high-pitched screech sounded from behind them. At this the Doctor smiled. Oh, Jimmy was going to get it now.

"_Jimmy Stone!"_

"Oh shit," was Jimmy's eloquent reply as he watched a very angry Jackie Tyler, face red and puffing from all the running, moving towards them with obvious intentions. As Jackie neared, Jimmy narrowly dodged the slap the elder Tyler had been planning to land neatly across his face.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, mildly impressed by Rose's ex-boyfriend's agility.

The impressed state didn't hold, however, as Jackie's next blow hit the gangly man squarely in the jaw.

"Good to see you too, Mrs. Tyler," Jimmy greeted as he rubbed painfully at his face, "I see you slap just as hard as always."

The Doctor felt a small flash of amusement at the back of his mind and Rose's accompanying stifled giggle. He was decidedly not liking this situation at all.

"Teach you to ruin my baby's future!" Jackie shouted at him, deaf to his pleasantries, "If she wasn't half clever as she was, she would've ended up in the nick because of you!"

"Speaking of being in the nick," Rose stepped to the Doctor's side and faced Jimmy fully, intervening just as Jackie was about to deal another slap, "Last I heard you were serving time at Brixton for dealing. What are you doing here?"

Jimmy heaved a dramatic sigh. "A perfectly legitimate business plan in Amsterdam becomes a crime to the kingdom on home soil. What, pray tell, has our world come to?"

Rose scoffed. "Oh, come off it! We both know you were dealing way before Amsterdam. You think I don't know where your half of the rent came from every month? What with you lighting up every bloody half hour…"

At this he waved a playful finger at her. "Oho, pot-kettle, Rosie," he said slyly, "If I recall correctly, you were lighting up right alongside me more often than not."

A blush coloured Rose's face and she couldn't bring herself to look up at the suddenly stiffened form of the Doctor beside her. "Jimmy," she mumbled.

Jimmy's eyes drifted to her side knowingly. "Oh, he doesn't know yet, does he?" he asked in a stage whisper.

Rose made a face to tell him to button it, but Jimmy simply grinned on in purposeful oblivion. The next moment, he'd stepped closer to Rose and had put an amicable arm around her shoulders. The Doctor practically growled at him.

"Right wild woman, Rosie was!" Jimmy continued loudly, "Should've seen her back then, mate, she was spectacular!" He turned to her, "Remember that time you drank three pints of Guinness in one go?" He looked at the Doctor again, "One minute I'm having a nice chat, the next my mate Ernie's telling me to turn around, and what do I find? There's Rose dancing on the bar, get this, _completely starkers_!" He laughed, patting her on the back, "I'm telling you, if that night wasn't the best sex I'd had in my life—"

"Okay!" Rose squeaked, feeling as though she was either going to burst into flames or melt into the ground at any moment, "Okay. Right. I think story time is over." She timidly looked at the Doctor's face from under her lashes and, seeing that he'd gone full Oncoming Storm, tried salvaging some remnant of her own decency in his eyes. "Doctor, it wasn't like—"

"Oh, he's a doctor, is he?" Jimmy crowed over her, "Well, that just explains everything! Can't have the world knowing about the wild escapades of your youth now you've got a reputation to uphold, right Rose?" He gave another incredulous laugh, "Who would've thought it, eh? Rose Tyler, a dignified lady!"

It was approximately at that moment that the Doctor decided he was going to deck Jimmy Stone. He wasn't ready to deal with another git slobbering over Rose so soon after the previous one. He was pretty much at the end of his rope with all of it, really. He took a menacing step forward, cool calmness slipping and spiralling, unguarded, through the link to Rose.

"Doctor," Rose warned, a restraining hand on his arm.

_Stop_, he heard her say into his mind.

Jimmy still didn't get it, he saw. As he stood, one of the most powerful, imposing creatures in the universe, Jimmy faced him down, unfazed. His casual stance bore no strain or stiffness as he stood in the eye of the Oncoming Storm. If anything, the ex-boyfriend appeared a bit defiant.

Then Rose did something that surprised the Doctor almost completely out of his angry stupor. She stepped into his field of vision, hands raised, standing in front of Jimmy Stone. _Protecting _Jimmy Stone.

"Doctor," she told him quietly, "Go back to the flat with Mum. I need to talk to Jimmy."

The Doctor's tensed shoulders slackened and he looked at her dumbly.

_Go_, she mentally reiterated her point.

He nodded his head stiffly and, without so much as another word, turned on his heel and headed back the way he came.

Jackie stood a while longer, looking between Rose and Jimmy with concern and something akin to fear in her eyes. Eventually, though, she too shrugged and followed the Doctor, only throwing a few doubtful glances back at them as she walked.

When both members of her family had disappeared down the road, Rose turned back to Jimmy, all-business.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

With just the two of them, Jimmy dropped the nonchalant act immediately. "I should be asking you the exact same thing."

Rose gave a frustrated huff. "You've no right to stand there and make judgements on me! Especially not after the way you left things last time. Left _me _last time."

Jimmy threw his hands up exasperatedly. "What do you want me to say about that, Rose? That I'm sorry? 'Cause I am. You know that."

"Too late for that now," Rose replied, folding her arms and looking over his shoulder to avoid his gaze, "Five years, eight-hundred pounds and two relationships too late."

He sighed, and for a while they just stood there not looking at each other. Both processing hurt from long ago that suddenly felt much rawer than it should. Finally, Jimmy spoke up again. "Know why I did what I did to you?"

Rose still didn't look at him. "'Cause you're an arse?"

He gave a sardonic laugh at that. "Yeah, 'cause I'm an arse. Well sums me up, that." He shook his head, the laughter cutting off. He looked back at her, turning serious again, "I did it 'cause I loved you."

Rose felt a jolt run through her when the words were said. For a moment she couldn't understand why her reaction to the simple statement had been so strong. Then, with a slightly sad and wry bemusement, she realised that the word, the 'l' one, had reached a realm of taboo for her. Always conveyed, but never spoken. Never used anywhere other than in the most personal of her thoughts.

She shook the feeling off and returned her attention to Jimmy. "You expect me to believe that you took my savings, got me evicted from my flat and ran off with Poosh or Noosh or whatever her name was 'cause you _loved_ me? If that's the case, Jim, then I reckon you've got no idea what love actually is."

"Oh no?" Jimmy answered quietly, "Realising what a deadbeat you are and how you're dragging down the one thing you still care about, having to be the one to leave her 'cause she's just too goddamned stubborn to leave you—is that love?"

Rose looked at him in shocked awe, completely at a loss for words at his admission. Jimmy, however, was already continuing.

"How about taking the drug money you replaced her savings with a long time ago so she doesn't get incriminated and caught up in your stupid mistakes—is that love?"

Rose bit her lip for a moment, but quickly managed to compose herself again. "So what, you trying to sabotage my relationship with the Doctor back there, you think that was love, too?"

Jimmy's face darkened. "He's dangerous, Rose."

She bristled. "What do you know?!"

"More than you, obviously."

Her eyes shot daggers at him. "Try me."

Jimmy's face was stony. "Follow me."


	37. Episode 3 Part 6

**Author's note: Hey guys! Sorry for the short chapter today; it's going to be preceding a bunch of long chapters, so I reckon it's a fair trade-off! :D**

…

She'd followed him all the way to the side of the road where he'd hailed a cab and had ushered her inside.

"This you kidnapping me?" Rose asked him with a raised eyebrow, only partly joking.

Jimmy rolled his eyes at her before leaning over to hand the cabbie in front a rolled-up wad of notes. "Tower Hamlets, Bank Street," he ordered.

"On business, are we?" the cabbie asked, casting back a doubtful eye at Jimmy and Rose's distinctly non-business t-shirt and trainers appearances.

"It's take-your-friend-to-work day," Jimmy replied, flashing Rose a smile as though he was sharing some sort of inside joke with her. She frowned back at him confusedly, at which his grin widened.

"Where are you taking me, Jimmy?" Rose asked after they'd been driving in silence for a while. Looking out of the car window, she'd noticed that the buildings around them were steadily getting taller and shinier. Not long after, they'd reached London's bustling business district.

"All in due time," he replied cryptically, eyes resting on their surroundings outside.

Rose huffed impatiently, twisting back to her own view of the outside world while absently brushing at some hairs that had slipped out of her ponytail.

_Rose? _She abruptly heard the Doctor's voice in her head. _You've been gone for more than an hour. Are you alright? Where are you?_

Oh perfect, she thought. She hadn't even realised that she'd been gone that long. The Doctor had no doubt started rallying up a search party by now if she knew him. Either that or he was sitting at home wringing his hands over her being alone with another bloke. As if _that _wasn't wholly hypocritical of him.

If this was how the next few hundred (or thousand, who knew?) years were going to go whenever they were apart…

The thought and the following revelation hit her like a strangely encompassing wave of vertigo, and Rose decided that it was best not to deal with thinking on _that_ right about now. Not when she needed her senses at their sharpest. What she needed to do at the moment was get away from it all. Away from him, away from her impending eternity, away from the uncertainty of having her unrealistic fantasies made frighteningly true. Jimmy was a welcome distraction, to say the least.

_Rose? _The Doctor called again, her name carrying more panic this time around.

_I'm fine, _she told him while sending soothing thoughts his way.

_Where are you? I'm coming to get you._

She could feel as he started reaching towards her through their link to track her location. She rolled her eyes.

_Doctor_, she said exasperatedly, _I told you I'm fine, alright? I think I'm just gonna spend the day with Shareen and Keisha to wrap my head around everything for a bit. You don't have to worry._

Of course she felt bad for lying to him. She hated lying, period. But with this particular white lie, she figured that it made them at least two-for-two.

_Rose, I know you're lying._

Damn Time Lord senses.

Rose gave a mental groan.

_Alright, I'm lying, _she admitted, knowing that trying to further her deception would only make bad matters worse.

_Are you with him? _

The thought came across quietly. It just oozed hurt and vulnerability. Despite her irritation with him, Rose felt her heart give a squeeze as she felt the emotions. She quickly dismissed it, though. She wasn't going to be pushed over that easily this time around.

_Don't you trust me? _She returned.

'_Course I do_, he said without hesitation, and she heard him give the mental equivalent of a sniff, _I trust you more than anyone._

_So then you have nothing to worry about, _she concluded.

The Doctor's thoughts darkened. _I think he may be dangerous, Rose._

Rose didn't know whether to be amused or outraged by that. It wasn't long, however, before outrage won out. Since when had she become someone as delicate as her namesake? Because last time she'd checked, she was Rose Tyler; born and raised estate-girl who didn't take flack from anyone. Not ex-boyfriends, not current-sort-of-boyfriend Time Lords—no one. Her irritation with the situation in general boiled over when she addressed the Doctor again:

_Yeah well, you know who else is dangerous, Doctor? Me. I beat a whole fleet of Daleks AND their emperor, remember? I think I can handle one scrawny bloke who, by the way, has been nothing but gentlemanly this entire time. For all the faith you say you have in my abilities, you don't half give me the opportunity to actually USE them. _

The Doctor was quiet for a moment after she'd stopped speaking.

_Be careful, _he finally told her.

She only had a fleeting moment of surprise before managing to return her composure.

_You know I'll be, _she replied.

Then he blocked off their link enough for her to focus on the present again. She knew that this newfound freedom in the face of danger would be conditional— he would no doubt be checking up on her often, space or not—but all in all this was still a huge step for him. She was proud of him.

"Good morning, Star-shine," Jimmy sing-songed to her side, startling her out of her reverie. She looked over at him inquiringly, only to see that he was gazing at her with a small, humorous smile set on his face, "What are you thinking about over there, Rosie?"

"Oh—nothing," she answered vaguely. Although she didn't necessarily see Jimmy as a threat, she wasn't going to go blabbing to him about her and the Doctor's personal matters, either. Especially not something as exploitable a target as a mental link…

Then she realised that the cab had stopped. She tried looking out of the car window in order to solve the mystery of where exactly Jimmy had taken her, but the very man was already ushering her out of the car.

"Come on, then!" he rushed her along both verbally and physically, pulling open her car door and giving her a small nudge in its direction, "Time's a-wastin'!"

She gave him a shove in return, but eventually did as he asked. Her curiosity was ever more dominant than her ability to hold grudges.

They got out on a sidewalk. Deep-city, it seemed. All around them, the world was bustling with men and woman garbed in sleek black, grey and navy clothing, talking into all manner of communication devices and/or headsets. The air practically permeated with the smell of business being undertaken left, right and centre.

"Alright, so here we are," she said, looking around her with a frown, "Now tell me _why _we're here."

Jimmy didn't look at her. Instead his gaze was fixed the opposite way she was facing from. Hands in his denim pockets he stood, looking up at something that apparently filled him with all the makings of wonderment.

"Turn around," he instructed.

Her brow creased even more as she looked at him with still more questions on her face, but he simply nodded towards his point of vision encouragingly.

When she did turn around, Rose still didn't know what she was looking at. No, it was only after her eyes had travelled up the large building to the very top that she realised where Jimmy had taken her.

She still didn't understand why, though.

"Canary Wharf?"


	38. Episode 3 Part 7

"You trying to stare a hole into that window?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor looked up, startled from his thoughts.

Jackie stood in the doorway to her flat's tiny kitchen, working her way through yet another cup of tea and eyeing the Doctor over the rim of her cup knowingly. She stared him down for a moment, eyes like blue ice.

The Doctor wasn't ashamed to admit that he was a little frightened of that look.

"Well?" she asked him in slight irritation.

He continued to stare at her, his eyebrows slowly lowering into a confused expression. "Hmm?" he inquired again.

She rolled her eyes at him, throwing her hand (thankfully the one _not _holding her tea) in the air. "My god, how alien are you?!" she exploded loudly, causing him to start once more, "I'm trying to ask you what's wrong and you just gape at me like some kind of fish!"

And he continued to do exactly that.

_Had _she asked him what was wrong? He could have sworn she hadn't. In fact, he thought as he ran through the past two hours in his head, she hadn't said much to him at all of late. Not in her inside voice, at least. Not pertaining to his feelings. He distinctly remembered being bundled into the flat and immediately thereafter being bombarded by her issues and worries on the topic of Jimmy Stone.

Jimmy Stone.

Rose had told him to trust her, and he did. Really, really did. But it also hadn't escaped his notice that Jimmy, drug dealing and all, was by far a better match for her than he was.

Age appropriate? Check. Life of normalcy and safety? Potential check.

Love?

Nothing of the exchange he'd witnessed between them had truly spoken of it, but after, when she'd sent _him_ away to talk to Jimmy alone, a certain look had passed between them. It hadn't been a look that spoke of deep caring or affection, but it had spoken volumes about history. Shared history.

Shared circumstances, shared experiences, shared life.

It had been a problem he'd encountered already with Mickey way-back-when; the compulsion to be with someone who shared your roots. That person who not only understood your way of life, but had experienced it themselves as well.

Mickey had known her better than him in the end. Looking back now he could admit it freely. He'd been a bigger man than him, too, willingly stepping back and letting Rose go when he realised that she didn't want him like he wanted her. He'd earned the respect that the Doctor now held for him.

But the problem with Jimmy was the fact that the Doctor had no idea whether Rose wanted him like that or not. It ate away at his brain and his hearts in equal measure to think of what she was even capable of hypothetically feeling for him.

Because, when it came down to it, Jimmy was the one who'd been her first love. He'd been her first adventure. And did a person ever really forget that completely?

"Oi."

He blinked, realising that Jackie had moved closer and had placed a comforting hand on his arm. It was odd, to say the least. When she wasn't running her mouth off over some trivial thing, she could be so very motherly.

She looked at him imploringly. "What's wrong?" she asked in softer tones.

He found himself compelled to answer honestly. He didn't know why, but it felt as though Jackie would actually be understanding towards the situation.

He stopped himself not a moment too soon, however, realising that she would most likely still go just a little mad at the news of their current predicament. Maternal aura or not, she was still Jackie Tyler.

But Jackie was the one who finally hit the nail on the head either way.

"You spent the night together, didn't you?"

She wasn't accusing him, which was even more strange. If anything, she looked a little sad, a little hopeless and maybe—just maybe—a little amused.

Overall, surely not a reaction to her statement he would have ever expected.

When still no answer came, she took it as quiet affirmation. Which was what it was, in a way.

She nodded her head wryly, even giving a small smile and soliciting a deeply disturbed frown from the Doctor.

"Well that's that, then," she announced resignedly, that same amusement holding.

"That's what?" he asked.

"Was an inevitability, I suppose," she mused, "What with the way you are around each other. Longing stares from day one, I'm telling you. Now I'm never gonna get rid of your poncey arse."

He kept on surveying her with a mounting sense of incredulity.

"So what you're telling me is that you're alright with all this? Just like that? With not even one, tiny slap in my direction on your mind?"

She snapped back into Jackie-mode at that, signalling the shift by putting down her cup on the dining room table and with the firm movement of her hands to her hips. "You asking for one?" she inquired dangerously, "'Cause if you're taking, I'm dealing."

"No!" the Doctor protested quickly, lifting shielding hands to his face almost as a reflex, "No, it's just— it isn't like you, being fine with this. Usually I get a slap for bringing her home a little late."

"Twelve months is a hell of a lot more than a _little _late!" she snapped at him.

Then she suddenly dropped her hands with a sigh, the fight retreating from her body.

"But I saw how she was with you that day," she continued quietly, "When she came running up to the flat all mussed up and crying and shouting about how you'd gotten hurt. I saw her, heard what she was telling me, and I thought—" she stopped speaking, squeezing her eyes shut.

The Doctor was about to ask if she was alright when she continued, "I thought that you'd gotten into a jam you couldn't get yourself out of for once. Thought seeing you like that had finally broken her."

She rubbed furiously at her eyes. "And when I followed her into that box of yours to help, she knew exactly where your room was. Not like someone who'd passed a certain point once or twice and had an idea of where it might be. She _knew_. Could've just as well asked her to take me there blind, she'd still have found it just as fast. And right there and then, as she'd opened the door and rushed to your side and didn't give me a sparing glance for—_days_ after that, I realised there was just no going back."

"No going back…" the Doctor murmured to himself.

Jackie had no idea how true that statement really was.

There was a knock at the door then. The Doctor thought that it may have been a godsend. The opportunity to beat a hasty retreat to the TARDIS was within reach. Just in time, too. He was quietly dreading the moment when Jackie decided that she wanted more information about his and Rose's altered relationship. Discussing private details like that with his—gulp—_mother-in-law _was right up there with kissing a Zygon on the list of things he absolutely never wanted to do.

"I'll get it!" he said in an overly cheerful kind of tone, practically shoving Jackie out of the way as he tried to reach the door before her.

He flung the barrier open in just such a flash, and was met by a startled intake of breath from the person waiting outside.

Finally the Doctor forced himself to take it a little slower. He wasn't much one for courtesy, but he didn't want to make a habit of bowling people over out of the blue, either.

Well. Certainly not if he could help it.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "Sorry 'bout that. Can I help you?"

Jackie's new guest was a young girl. Rose's age, he noted. Not as pretty as Rose, obviously, but certainly not plain. Her chestnut-brown hair had been done up in a loose bun and her wide, bright-green eyes were set in an expression of surprise. Light freckles dusted her nose like a sprinkling of cinnamon. It wasn't unlike his own.

The girl shook herself from her startled stupor. Her eyes turned curious and inquisitive as she looked at him in another light.

"That's alright," she answered before falling quiet again. For what felt like a full minute she continued to stare at him as though he were some sort of mathematical equation.

"Can I help you?" he repeated slowly.

She then proceeded to grin at him unabashedly. "Oh!" she exclaimed, giving herself a light slap to the forehead, "'Course! How thick am I?" She gave a short laugh, looking as though she pitted endless joy in his mere presence. "You two figure out your issues, then?" she asked belatedly.

"I'm—sorry?" For all the cleverness he harboured, he couldn't for the life of him discern what was going on.

"I'm looking for Rose, actually," she switched gears, craning her neck to see past him into the flat, "She in?"

The Doctor continued to stare at her quizzically. Now that he came to think of it, she seemed quite familiar to him as well. Where had he seen her before? Certainly not in person. He remembered everyone he'd met in person. Maybe a photo? Yes, that was it. Something he'd found in Rose's room, he recalled. She'd provided a running commentary, but it seemed that he hadn't been listening at the time. Perhaps it had been the one in which Rose had worn that very skimpy, red mini-dress…

"Oh, budge up, you plum!" Jackie said at his back, forcefully manoeuvring him out of the way. She smiled at the girl. "Shareen, love, what a nice surprise! You wanna come in for a cuppa?"

"Nah, just came 'round to ask Rose if she wanted to come out to the chippy with me."

"Sorry sweetheart, but she's not here at the moment." Jackie leaned in, eyes stretching wide and betraying her status as an insufferable gossip, "Did you hear Jimmy Stone's back in town? Don't even know how long. What I do know, though, is he's still just as much of a prat as always. Not five minutes he's around Rose again and he's whisked her off with no word as to where!"

"Oh," the Doctor caught Shareen's almost imperceptible flinch and her accompanying forced smile.

"Yeah—that Jimmy Stone's a real character," she finished lamely. She pulled up her shoulders and gave a more genuine smile, "Oh well, I'll just make my own way then. Or—" she seemed to decide on something which she apparently thought a _ very _good idea. Her eyes fell on the Doctor, "You wanna come keep me some company, Doctor? I reckon it's time you received the compulsory best-mate chat anyway."

The Doctor looked between Jackie and Shareen as they waited for an answer, feeling a bit like a trapped animal.

Finally he heaved a resigned sigh. "Oh, alright then."

Shareen grinned at him amusedly. "Brilliant," she announced before heading off.

"See you, Mrs. Tyler!" she called over her shoulder as she made for the Estate's exit with the Doctor in tow.

"Have a nice time, you two!" Jackie called back.

Shareen led the two of them down the several flights of stairs that led to the Estate's ground floor in silence. It was only when the massive building was a sufficient distance behind their backs that she started up the conversation once again. She moved to walk beside him, matching her pace with his large strides.

"She never tells me anything these days, you know," she told him, her eyes on the road ahead of her, "Last thing I hear she's done with you, wholly and completely, and now I find you visiting her mother."

She sighed, "Never was like this before she went missing. Time was, we texted each other every single detail as it happened."

They arrived at the chip shop and entered. Shareen nodded at a small table with two chairs, seating herself neatly in one. The Doctor followed suit.

"I'm sorry that I've been keeping her away," he told her sincerely.

He really was sorry for that one bit. Not for taking her with him, of course. He'd never be sorry for that. But he knew full well that all his companions, Rose included, had had their own lives before him. All of them had people they loved and who loved them; friends and family and boyfriends and pets and all those very domestic things. He also knew that with every single one of his companions, once again Rose included, he'd been the one to take them away from it all. Been the factor that disrupted and, yes, sometimes destroyed those carefully constructed and surprisingly fragile webs of life that they'd weaved for themselves.

At times he'd wondered if they resented him for that.

Now he wondered if Rose would.

"S'not your fault," she said with a shake of her head, "It was her choice to go with you in the end as much as it was your choice to ask her." She gave a wry smile, "And I don't think either of you planned on falling in love at the time."

Reflexively he flinched away from the word. The "l" one. He'd been confronted with that word far too much in the course of the last while. Even been prompted to say it—not that he was ever planning to rehash _that _painful experience again. So instead, he made for a subject change.

"So how'd you and Rose come to be friends, anyway? She never got around to telling me."

That was good question, he decided. It would keep her talking without him having to give much more than a "hmm" or a "ha" in the right place.

She smiled softly. "Oh, that's such a long story," she said.

"We've got time," he assured her, putting up a hand and signalling a lady behind the counter to bring them two helpings.

"And chips," he added as the woman made her way to them and placed the steaming, golden, greasy food items before them.

Shareen laughed as she watched the Doctor pop a chip in his mouth and smile contentedly while he chewed.

"I see Rose's irrational love for chips has been rubbing off on you," she remarked.

"Nothing wrong with a good batch of chips," he said around a second.

She gave another laugh, but it quickly died down. The Doctor nodded for her to go ahead with her story, and she abruptly got a faraway look in her eye.

"Me and Rose and Mickey grew up on the Estate together," she started, "Dirt poor, the three of us were. And we looked it, too. But happy, yeah? That's what counted." Her eyes fell to the uneaten chips on the table in front of her. "My dad wasn't much in the way of a man from the start. He liked bullying people, see. Hitting them and the like. Especially when he'd had a drink or two. Mum and I got the brunt of it all through the time he was alive. Then he decided to go driving one night after he'd had one drink too many. I was just starting up secondary when it happened."

Her face was carefully blank as she paused.

Compartmentalisation. The Doctor knew it well.

"Mum wasn't coping with it well," she continued levelly, "Despite everything he'd done to us, she'd still loved him. I suppose love is like that. She started drinking herself, started sleeping around and skipping out on work at the grocer's. And by the time we were fifteen, I'd gotten myself a job at Henrik's so we wouldn't lose the flat."

A flash of affection appeared in her eyes. "Rose stuck with me all through that. Sat with me in the evenings when I waited up for mum 'til she got home. Helped me tuck mum into bed when she was too pissed to do it herself—" she took a deep breath. "Held me while I cried after I'd told Mum to move out."

She lifted her eyes slightly, her voice gaining some strength. "Rose is like my sister, but even sisters fight. Our big fallout turned out to be over a bloke, stupid as that sounds. About Jimmy, actually."

The Doctor's eyes snapped up to meet hers, interest sparking within.

Her mouth quirked up at one corner, but there lay no amusement on her face. "Yeah, not that hard to believe, is it? Charming, handsome and clever bloke Jimmy is, me and Rose, sixteen years old, both fancied him quite a bit. Rose won out in the end, though. I was all elbows and knees at the time and Rose was—well—she was _Rose_. Jimmy never even spared me a glance."

She shook her head. "He was such an arse back then," she muttered angrily, "Never thought I'd actually be glad I hadn't been with him at the time. She'd never been much for school as it was, but with Jimmy Rose stopped going altogether. When she decided she was dropping out, me and her mum were furious. Told her that love was blinding her. Told her to stop seeing Jimmy."

She gave a humourless laugh. "And what did stubborn Rose Tyler do? She stopped seeing _us._ Basically told us to stuff it and moved in with Jimmy. We only saw her again when she turned up heartbroken on her mum's doorstep six months later."

The Doctor gave a flinch at the all-too-familiar mental image, but if Shareen noticed she didn't mention it. She was too immersed in the past.

"I got to finish my A-levels, she didn't. Of course, Rose being Rose she never held that against me. I got into university on a scholarship after school. Temporal physics, if you can believe it. And through it all Rose was the one supported me most. She'd taken over my old job at Henrik's when I started studying. I told her I'd get another one somewhere else to pay my flat rent, but she refused. Told me I was gonna be the one who got myself off the Estate one day and that I needed to focus on studying."

She gave a disbelieving smile. "Rose and her mum paid my rent every month 'til I became lab assistant at the university."

The Doctor stared in awe at the words. Then his hearts filled with an unfathomable amount of warmth. If it was at all possible, he felt for Rose even more deeply. She was truly the most compassionate person he'd ever come across. She was amazing.

Shareen cast her gaze to the ceiling, her expression turning wry. _"_And despite _all _of that," she said, "I have no idea how I'm gonna tell her my news." She gave a breathy chuckle, "I'm completely terrified, to be honest."

The Doctor nodded knowingly at that. He already knew what the news was. The mix of hormones he'd smelt around her since he'd first laid eyes on her was unmistakable. He caught it even now; the strong concentrations of estrogen and progesterone her body was putting out.

"You're pregnant," he stated.


	39. Episode 3 Part 8

Rose only realised that Jimmy wasn't going to give her an answer to the question of why they were currently mulling about in Canary Wharf when they stepped into the elevator.

The music tinkling softly above their heads sounded to be some odd variation on a Kylie song. It was probably meant to be soothing, but for some reason the sound of it caused her nothing short of endless irritation. She resisted the urge to huff at the obvious lack of information she was receiving and shortly thereafter halted her foot that had gotten to tapping impatient rhythms. She thought she saw Jimmy cast her a bemused glance out of the corner of her eye, but she wasn't going to meet his eyes fully in her annoyed state.

She resolved to look at herself in the reflective elevator wall across from her instead. The sight of it caused her to give a small grimace: she looked positively horrendous.

With a small bout of shock she came to the revelation that this was her first look at herself in a mirror in over a week. She'd just been too set on the Doctor's recovery to care about self-indulgent tendencies like that at the time.

Now that she _did_ see, though, she had no idea how the Doctor hadn't set off running the moment he'd opened his eyes. The large amount of hair falling out of her ponytail hung lank on her cheeks, visibly dark roots starting to mar the illusion of blonde she usually upheld. Her face was devoid of makeup, making the deep purple shadows beneath her eyes seem even more haggard than they would have been with. To top it all off, her outfit looked wrinkled and mismatched, more than anything showcasing the haste with which she'd dressed in the morning so as to return to the unconscious Doctor as quickly as possible.

She sighed, shaking her head at the sight.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Jimmy remarked.

She turned around to face him sharply. "About what?"

She'd thought that Jimmy would be grinning when she'd turned to him. Maybe be giving her a cutting look and say something horribly witty about her appearance. Instead, she found him looking at her with the concern of a loving family member; all worry for her well-being and sincere acceptance.

"You look like hell," he told her seriously.

She continued to look at him as though he hadn't spoken at all, brows knitting together confusedly. Who exactly was this person and what had he done to her arsehole of an ex-boyfriend?

"What? You do," he said matter-of-factly at her expression of consternation. His face turned dark and he lowered his voice. "Is he treating you right, Rose? 'Cause if he isn't—"

That simple statement was enough to snap her out of it. Thick, heady anger abruptly flooded her body and her fingers flexed in response to her sudden need to give Jimmy a good smack for just suggesting the notion.

"First of all, my relationship is none of your damn business, Jimmy Stone," she retorted coldly, "And second, the Doctor would _never_ do what you did to me, just up and leaving like that—"

"He did leave you, though, didn't he?" Jimmy spoke over her quietly, "Just a month ago, too. Left you right where he'd found you, Shareen said. How's that any better than what I did to you? Least I did it 'cause I cared, not just 'cause I got bored."

Her eyebrows shot up in bewilderment, and it was impossible for Rose to keep her voice down. "How _dare_ you—" but then something else he'd said registered with her. Her eyebrows fell back down, looking at him quizzically. "'Shareen said?'" she started slowly, her already fuming gaze becoming even more stormy, "Since when have you been talking to Shareen again?"

The look, that of a penitent child, that crossed his face then said everything about the slip of the tongue he'd just made. It also gave Rose enough fuel to launch at him doubly. "Jimmy…" she said warningly, eyes flashing.

The elevator dinged, signalling their arrival. Had Jimmy Stone exited the confined space any faster, he would've been just a streak of cowardly yellow.

Rose stepped out to find Jimmy standing at a point where the corridor in which she now stood opened into a room. Stark, white light seemed to be emanating from the space in question. Rose walked over to stand beside him, taking in what lay beyond.

"Rose Tyler," he grinned down at her, watching as she stared in awe at the wide, white space, "Welcome to Torchwood."

She looked up at him, eyes stretching even wider in shock. Then she grasped him by the arm and pulled him from view into the corridor. There, she fixed him with yet another furious expression. "You work for _Torchwood_?!" she hissed.

Jimmy looked at her in bewilderment. "You know what Torchwood is?!" he returned.

Rose cast a quick eye about to check that there was no one else in the corridor before rounding on him. "Of course I do, you git!" she told him in hushed tones, "I've been travelling with the Doctor for years now, you think I don't know my way around all of Earth's secret alien agencies?"

"He's an alien too, you know," Jimmy told her, "And from what I've heard, he's more dangerous than all the Sontarans and Sycorax out there put together. Kills people by the thousands, they say. Looking into those eyes of his I wouldn't be surprised."

"He saves your sorry arses on a daily basis!" Rose defended him passionately, "The Doctor can't help it when humans like you decide to cock up everything by firing a big gun at anything you don't understand!"

"_Humans like me,_ you say," Jimmy gave a bitter laugh, "Oh boy, he really did do a number on you, didn't he? Enough to forsake your own species? I never stood a chance. Always thought I was never enough man for you, Rosie. Turns out I was too much."

"Shut up," she told him flatly.

Jimmy looked towards the white room again. "I brought you here to show you what that Doctor of yours is capable of," he said, "You gonna stop being pig-headed now and come see?"

She looked at him stonily for a moment longer, arms folded tightly across her chest. Inevitably, however, her curiosity was piqued. "Fine," she answered begrudgingly, leading the way to the white room once more.

Jimmy smiled at her retreating back. "There's that Rose-Tyler enthusiasm."

The entire group of thirty-odd strangers in the room had their backs to Jimmy and Rose when they entered. The party was bundled around some invisible focal point. All donning shielding sunglasses, the Torchwood employees were staring interestedly at what was, as far as Rose could discern, a blank, white wall on the far side of the room.

"What's going on?" Rose murmured as Jimmy handed her her own pair of sunglasses.

"Just put those on and wait," he told her, perching his on his nose and assuming the same position as the others.

Rose put the glasses on uncertainly, having no clue what to expect for the next few moments. It was then that someone in the crowd shifted from her field of vision to see what everyone was congregating around.

A big gun.

"And you say the Doctor's wrong about you lot?" she muttered sardonically.

"Steady on, John Lennon," Jimmy replied, and she knew that he was most likely rolling his shielded eyes at her, "It's a particle engine. Completely for scientific usage. That thing's not killing anyone."

"Yeah, but it's not all particle engines 'round here, is it?" she grumbled.

Jimmy heaved a frustrated sigh, but didn't say any more on the matter. Didn't protest either, Rose noted.

"Impact in five," someone at the head of the room announced. The words caused an excited susurrus to arise amongst the crowd of people. "Four, three, two, one," the person counted down.

The next moment, a high-pitched keening tore through the room, accompanied by a blinding flash of light. Rose was momentarily overwhelmed by it all, throwing her hands over her ears and feeling light panic set in as all her senses were cut off.

_Rose?!_ She heard the Doctor's voice in her head. It felt like a point of stable light on the otherwise dark and tumultuous ocean she found herself upon. _Are you alright? I can feel your distress through the barrier._

The light died down as quickly as it came, softening into something altogether more bearable. The sound, too, dimmed somewhat until it was just an irritating background quirk.

_I'm fine, _Rose assured him as she lowered her hands and threw Jimmy a "what the hell was that?" look.

_You are? _The Doctor asked her doubtfully. She felt faint traces of suspicion in his manner. It was justified, she supposed. She _was_ currently visiting one of the Doctor's most-hated destinations. He hadn't even wanted to set a foot there himself after last Christmas (as he'd many a time vented to her during their so-called quiet-time library sessions); she dreaded to think of what he'd do if he found out that she'd gone there on her own. Or with her ex-boyfriend, which was probably worse.

_Yeah, _she replied instead, willing the words to come out as truth.

_Oh. Alright, then. _

He still didn't believe her. That much was obvious. But, bless him, he left her alone about it. She felt as he retreated again slightly, barely hanging on the outer rims of her subconscious and giving her space for her thoughts and emotions. Did she mention how much she loved him for giving her this freedom? She briefly considered the notion of telling him, but thought better of it.

Her eyes then caught sight of what everyone else in the room was already staring at.

A hole.

A hole in—everything.

Lying there in front of her, Rose had no doubt of what it was. She didn't know how she knew, didn't have any recollection of having gathered the information—the names of every single person that had passed it over the years, dates of every single historical event that had occurred in its presence, physical and mathematical equations explaining how it came to be here in this exact spot at this exact moment—that had suddenly started running through her mind at an impossible speed. She just knew that all her thoughts on the subject were absolute, undeniable truth. Knew it with her entire being.

"It's a hole in the fabric of reality," Jimmy told her at her side, "Turned up in the eighties, apparently. They detected it as a black radar spot in midair, and then built this place to study it." He gave an incredulous laugh, "Sodding rich people."

He shook his head before turning back to her seriously. "What do you wanna bet that your Doctor caused that?"

1985, to be precise. The hole had turned up in 1985.

In East London.

East London, 1985, 15 July at approximately 03:02 in the morning.

And Jimmy was right about one other thing, too.

The Doctor _had _caused this.

Rose felt her hands slowly lift up to cover her mouth in horror. She felt slight tears pricking in her eyes. "Oh—god," was all she could manage.

"I'm sorry," she heard Jimmy say, and she could hear that he honestly meant it. She felt his hand on her shoulder. She knew that he'd never truly intended on hurting her through this information. She understood that he'd just needed for her to know.

And now she did. And—oh god—

_How stupid had they been?!_ They'd been through this before. Seen the consequences of doing this with their own eyes. There was a person alive in the universe that shouldn't be—and it was _her_.

She'd allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security after he'd told her. Had told herself it didn't matter. She and the Doctor caused paradoxes every other day, what was another one added to the mix? She'd told herself that they were safe, that the Reapers would have descended by now if they were in any real danger.

But how would the Reapers have gone about fixing this mistake?

Rose had been travelling with the Doctor for two years now. Probably longer, since she'd lost track of counting the days long ago. She and the Doctor were spread out all across time and space. Past, present and future—they were everywhere, everywhen. Her dad had been one man living a tiny, little life, seeing the same people every day and coming home to the same house and family every night.

And his being alive had almost ripped the universe apart. The longer he'd lived his paradoxical existence, the worse it had gotten.

That wasn't even the kicker, though. Oh, no.

The kicker was the fact that Rose was now going to live for thousands of years. Had to, or she risked hurting, possibly killing, the Doctor if the bond was broken.

What kind of destruction would her eternal existence leave in its wake?

"All field operatives to base!" someone announced. Rose only dimly registered it.

Her dad had died to fix the paradox. Died to save the universe. But she couldn't. She couldn't do that to the Doctor. Not now. She couldn't do anything in the way of helping the situation. Nothing at all. And, if she knew the Doctor, he'd probably sacrifice himself in order to save her and the universe from the paradox. He had last time, after all.

It was oh so selfish, the choice she had to make, but she did make it:

The only thing she could do was to keep this to herself.

"Come on!" Jimmy said, pulling her along by the hand and startling her from her horrified thoughts.

"Where are we going?" Rose called after him as he whisked her from the room of newfound horror and down the outside corridor. She tried to put thoughts of the hole that represented her erroneous existence from her mind and, ashamedly, found it easier than she'd thought.

Jimmy grinned at her over his shoulder as they ran. "Take-your-friend-to-work day," he reminded her.

They arrived on the ground floor, entering a large room resembling a hangar, and Rose was as always thankful for the physical fitness she'd developed during all her adventures with the Doctor. As they walked up to a group of people all clad in sensibly uniform black, Rose took in all of the salvaged alien tech that surrounded them in a kind of distasteful awe.

"You're not supposed to have any of this," she told him, joining the group of people and ignoring the looks the operatives shot at her and Jimmy's distinctly non-uniform appearances.

"Oh, could you just stop it with that for a second?" he said in annoyance, "This is our job, Rose. This is what Torchwood does. We salvage tech to further humanity's ability to protect itself."

"Yeah, and then you use that tech on innocent aliens!"

"No such thing as an innocent alien," Jimmy said decidedly, "If they're here, they're invading."

Rose shook her head with a huff. "There's no getting through to you people."

"Oi! You!"

Jimmy and Rose were both pulled from their conversation when someone from the head of the group, someone who looked rather official, made his way over to them.

He was a short, stout man, with two tufts of hair behind each individual ear and not much more, and a face that was set in a frown, worn enough to speak of measurable experience.

"Commander Jenkins—" Jimmy started, but the man wasn't even looking at him.

He was, in fact, glaring straight at Rose, his face steadily turning an unhealthy shade of beetroot in fury at the sight of her. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You. Out."

Rose looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"I said OUT!" he ordered, his booming voice causing the operatives at his back to jump.

Rose, however, stood her ground. In the face of the man's rudeness and general supremacy, she felt her naturally rebellious side flare up almost immediately. "Why should I?" she asked.

His eyes grew wide at her defiance, and when he leaned in closer to shout at her, she resisted the urge to take a step back from the flying specks of spittle that hit her face. "Because I said so!" he told her angrily, "Because I'll not be havingrogue Torchwood operatives interfering on my missions! Not even the great Marion Smith, I'll have you know!"

She frowned at that. "I'm not a Torchwood operative," she said honestly, "Never have been, hopefully never will be. And my name's not Marion Smith, either."

Marion Smith. It _did_ sound like something she'd use as an alias. Her own version of John Smith, if you would. Hmm. That was quite interesting.

If anything, the Commander only seemed to be angered further by this. "Don't you lie to me, Smith! Did you think I wouldn't recognise you just 'cause you changed your hair colour? Do I look stupid to you?!'

"Well, I wasn't gonna mention it," she responded without thinking.

Her and the Commander's eyes both grew wide at the same time. The Commander moved into her personal space, and right there and then Rose believed that he was actually going to punch her. A black eye most certainly wasn't something she wanted to go back to the Doctor with…

"Whoa! Whoa, sir, stop!" Jimmy shouted, moving in between Rose and the Commander and shielding her with his body. "She isn't a Torchwood operative, sir," he defended her, "And her name isn't Marion Smith. It's Rose Tyler, sir. She's a civilian."

The Commander glared at him for a moment, calculating. Then he was apparently ready to pick the next fight. "And why the hell have you decided to bring a civilian into Torchwood, Stone?!"

"She had an extraterrestrial experience, sir," Jimmy answered gravely, and Rose had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from giggling at the inherent truth of the statement, "She said she wanted to help defend Earth from the alien scourge, so I brought her here for a test run. She's quite good under pressure, sir. I can most certainly vouch for her."

If there was one good thing you could say about Jimmy, it was that he certainly had a knack for bullshit.

The Commander narrowed his eyes at Jimmy suspiciously. He simply maintained his perfectly innocent façade.

"Fine," the Commander said sharply, "She can come along. _But_," the accusatory finger shot up again to point at Jimmy's face, "If she gets shot, or poisoned, or eaten, that's on you, Stone."

"Yes, sir," he agreed, grinning outright.

"And wipe that smirk of your face before I do it for you!"

"Yes, sir," he obliged, his expression turning to one of barely contained laughter.

The Commander sighed and, clearly giving up on the whole situation, walked away.

"Come on!" Jimmy said, turning to Rose, "Let's get you suited up."

Rose didn't exactly support (was strongly opposed to) Torchwood's ideals, but she had to admit that she was intrigued with the idea of spending the day as an operative. As long as the Doctor didn't find out, that was.

She watched as Jimmy set off, all excitement and energy, to get her and him some gear, when she noticed something small drop out of the back pocket of his denims.

She stooped to pick it up. "Oh Jimmy, you dropped—" she started to call. Then she looked down at what she was holding.

It was a box. Tiny and wooden. Pretty. She opened it up, and found exactly what one would expect to find in a tiny, wooden, pretty box.

An engagement ring.


	40. Episode 3 Part 9

**Author's note: You know what you do after a really crappy day? Write a kick-ass chapter for your fanfic, of course!**

**Hope you like it :)**

**...**

"—so I say, 'wouldn't that mean that a radioactive cat has 18 half-lives?'"

The Doctor grinned when Shareen burst out laughing. "You didn't!"

His grin widened. "Oh, I most certainly did."

"_Ginzburg_?"

"Yep."

"You're lying!"

"Nope."

Shareen shook her head, wiping at the small tears of mirth in her eyes as her laughter died down. "God, you don't know how much I've been needing this," she told him honestly, "I mean, Keisha and Rose, love 'em to death, but they're just not interested in these types of things, you know? And don't even get me started on my colleagues at the lab. Might as well be made of cardboard for all the personality they have…"

"Oh, I get it," the Doctor answered, pouting slightly, "You know I tried explaining string theory to Rose once? She stopped listening to me and went back to watching _EastEnders _halfway through! Can you believe that? As if what Alfie and Linda are doing with their lives is more important than one of the greatest theorems in modern science!"

She gave another laugh at that, but after her face came to rest in a knowing smile. "She loves it, though. When you go all hundred-words-per-minute."

The Doctor was slightly taken aback by this. "She does?" he asked, his voice coming out as far more vulnerable than he'd intended. He quickly cleared his throat. "What makes you say that?"

Shareen's eyes—kind eyes, the Doctor had decided—softened. "It's the way she talks about you, yeah? Any idiot would see she loves you after just a few seconds of listening to that."

A crease formed between his brows. "She talks about me with you?"

"Doesn't shut up about you, more like," she remarked amusedly, "Every time I see her, it's 'oh, the Doctor's gone and done this' or 'oh, the Doctor's gone and done that'. It's quite annoying, to be honest," she finished with a grin.

"Oh," the Doctor said, feeling mildly embarrassed. He only now realised that he'd been talking non-stop about Rose through his entire conversation with Shareen, too. He'd barely refrained from talking about her for two sentences while telling Shareen about his words had with Ginzburg, and yet Rose had been along for that trip as well.

Oh Rassilon, were he and Rose becoming—

_Co-dependent_?

Shareen had started talking again, and the Doctor decided it best to stop dwelling on disconcerting thoughts like those by focusing on the present.

"—always nattering on about how rude you are, too," she was saying, "Didn't think it was as bad as Rose had made it out to be—" she raised a bemused eyebrow, "'til you went and called me pregnant, of course."

The Doctor winced at his previous statement, a hand lifting up to rub at the back of his neck. "Uh yeah, sorry about that."

"Which by _no means _was you insinuating something about my weight…"

"No! Of course not! You—um—you seem to have a very healthy physique in terms of a twenty-odd-year-old female."

"Gee, thanks," Shareen answered sarcastically, "You use that line on all the girls?"

"Well, you know," he floundered for a second before finding his feet again, "It was just a—lucky guess, I suppose."

At this her teasing air disappeared, her gaze growing heavy. "Believe me, luck don't got nothing to do with it."

The Doctor looked at her sympathetically. "You don't want it?"

She met his eyes, and it was almost as though she were startled by the question. "No," she answered quickly, "No, I do. It's just—" her gaze fell to the window beside their table, eyes following the bustling London life outside. "I just don't know if—_he _does," she murmured thoughtfully.

"He doesn't know?" he inquired gently.

Shareen sighed, closing her eyes and dragging her hands across her temples. "No," she told him, "Haven't gotten around to telling him yet. Just confirmed it myself this morning, actually. I'm only two weeks along, so the plan was to tell Rose first and then him after."

She gave a scoff, "Not that that worked out, apparently."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," the Doctor reassured her, hoping upon hope at the back of his mind that the surety would pan out to be true. As insurance, he decided to tack on something he felt certain about, "I know that Rose will be there for you through all of this."

Seeing that she still looked doubtful, he decided to throw caution to the wind: "Both of us will be."

She gave him a small, scared smile. "Ta," she thanked him.

Shareen looked down at her watch and started. "Oh god, I'm going to be late to catch the bus!" she exclaimed. She looked up, this time giving the Doctor a more genuine smile, "This has been great, Doctor. I'm glad to see my friend is in good hands."

She waited just long enough for him to return the smile before standing up from her seat and making for the exit.

"You don't want me to walk you there?" the Doctor called after her concernedly. He knew that this neighbourhood was a rough one, to say the least.

"Nah, that's fine," she told him as she pulled the door open to exit, "It's only a block or so. I'll manage."

The Doctor nodded, and shortly after watched her leave. He turned back to his empty plate of chips with a small smile playing on his lips. Rose really was a good judge of character in her friends.

Well— her non-pretty-boy friends.

He stuck his hand in the air, ordering another round of chips. When the food arrived, he tucked in, enjoying his meal in quiet contemplation.

…

Rose had given Jimmy back the engagement ring wordlessly. Jimmy had accepted just as mutely. Since then, the two had allowed the truth to hang between them heavily and silently, Jimmy leading Rose along with the other field operatives to a black Humvee. They'd driven in the same silence after that, too, sitting side-by-side with shoulders touching, but otherwise not making much in the way of eye contact or conversation.

Then the Humvee had stopped, dropping half of its load in a decidedly shoddy parking garage devoid of any vehicles. Rose had moved to one of the openings in the structure that provided an aerial view of the surrounding city, and had realised shortly after that they'd made a return trip to Peckham. They were barely three blocks away from the Estate.

This was where she stood now, not paying much attention to the contents of the procedural arrangements that the operatives were receiving.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Jimmy had moved to stand beside her, looking out across the stretch of building-filled land they'd both come to know as their origins.

Rose kept her eyes on the city as well. "The ring's for Shareen."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Jimmy answered on a sigh either way.

He didn't say anything else, and the silence that followed felt loaded with about a million unasked questions. If anything, it filled Rose with a feeling of blatant annoyance. In light of needing to know at least _something_, she resolved to start with the easiest question.

"_Why_?" she asked, turning to him.

Jimmy met her gaze and frowned deeply. "What do you mean 'why'?"

Her face remained steely. "What do you want with her?"

He looked at her as though she were stupid (first the Doctor, now Jimmy, too? What was it with these men and their superiority complexes?). "I love her," he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

For the briefest of moments, Rose felt a flash of jealousy at the ease with which Jimmy said the words. No fuss, no muss, no implosion of the universe— just a simple statement of fact. Ultimately, however, the envy only served to fan the fires of Rose's consternation.

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow, "So this isn't just your sick version of a recruitment mission, good scientist like Shareen and all? 'Cause I swear, Jimmy, if you get her involved in any of this—"

"No, Shareen doesn't know about anything," he said. His voice coloured then, became hard and filled with determination, "And it's going to stay that way, too. It's not safe for her to know."

When he said it, the sound of the words startled her. At first she couldn't quite discern why this was. Then, with a jolt, she realised that it was, in fact, the tone he'd used that was so familiar. It was the same no-nonsense tone that the Doctor used in accordance to her safety.

Cold shock crept into her heart at the sudden revelation:

Jimmy really did care about her.

"If you two are done making moony eyes at each other over there," Commander Jenkins thundered from a slight distance away, causing Jimmy and Rose's heads to whip around. The Commander cut an especially nasty look across to Rose, "You may care to join us for team debriefing and weaponisation."

"No, I'm not carrying a gun," Rose told him as she approached the group with Jimmy, waving off the small pistol that the Commander offered her.

"Well, that settles it then," the Commander remarked, retracting the offered gun and holstering it, "Pacifist like you, you're definitely not Marion Smith. That broad would solve Global Warming with a gun if she could."

If Rose didn't know any better, she'd say that the Commander was trying to get some sort of a rise out of her.

She decided to ignore it, but still the uncomfortable thought niggled at her brain. Whoever this Marion Smith was, future version of her or otherwise, she found that she was growing to like her less and less.

"Besides," the Commander continued with an overly nonchalant shrug, "It'll only be your mate Jimmy here you'll be letting down through not carrying one. As luck would have it, you two are the winners of this mission's sole two-man team. Congratulations!"

His voice just dripped with contempt as he looked at Rose challengingly.

"Well, they do call me Fortuna in some circles," she muttered. She cast an irresolute look back at Jimmy before meeting the Commander's eyes again, "Does that thing have a stun setting?"

He gave a triumphant grin, looking as if she'd just soundly proved his point. Perhaps she had.

"Especially for the ladies," he confirmed (albeit chauvinistically), once again brandishing the weapon from his holster and flipping a miniscule switch on it.

Rose snatched the gun from him and briefly contemplated using said stun setting on him. Then he could see just how _ladylike_ a shit-your-pants stunning really was…

He was already talking again, though.

"Vespultarians, they're called," he told the group of operatives, "Nasty creatures, they are. We caught wind of them in Dublin a few years ago. Humanoid for the most part, except for the teeth. All canines. That's how you identify the buggers. They're massively intelligent, too, in a twisted sort of way. Very good at functioning in groups. They've been running a few gang rings in old London town for a good while now: one in Tottenham, one in Croydon, one in Wembley and, this is where you all become relevant, one right here in East End Peckham. Their prey of choice is young females, around late teens to early twenties, usually small in stature. Their methods? Venomous spikes in the hands. One touch sedates initially, and then proceeds to, so to speak, _tenderise_ the subject. I think you can all guess what happens after that."

The entire party gave a collective wince.

Commander Jenkins nodded at everyone's expressions of resigned horror. "Gang activity has been on the up-and-up in the past few months. Sources have indicated that the reason is that this specific gang, the Peckham Boys, have managed to start recruiting humans to apprehend victims. They take them to the Boys' home base, where they're sedated and ingested approximately six hours after."

The Commander looked around at the operatives. "Our job? Finding the home base and, more importantly, the Vespultarian queen. Destroy the queen, destroy the gang. Each group will be posted at different hotspots for gang activity, starting here," he nodded towards Jimmy and Rose, who returned the nod in affirmative. "From there we'll correspond on any signs of unrest; the first group to catch a break follow the gang members to home base, where they will inform the rest of the location and wait—I repeat _wait__—_" he threw a pointed look towards Rose, who frowned, "for the rest of the party to arrive. Are we all in affirmative of what the plan is?"

The group made sounds and motions of confirmation, and not a second after jumped into meticulously trained action. Only a few minutes had passed and the groups, all numbering at least five people, had made their way out of the parking garage and to their various rendezvous points. Only Rose, Jimmy and the Commander remained.

"This is the last known location of a gang meet," he told them, "So it's highly unlikely that there'll be another one held here. Perfect for a _newcomer_." He said the last word, in regards to Rose, with so much sarcasm it was practically tangible. Rose wasn't going to indulge the man by responding, though.

"Should the situation arise in which you need to defend yourself, however," the Commander continued, "It's a shoot-first-ask-questions-later scenario."

"Of course it is," Rose muttered sardonically.

The Commander started heading off, and for a second Rose thought that he hadn't heard her. But then, just before leaving, the soldier called over his shoulder: "And we'll see how much that love-and-peace-to-all attitude of yours helps you when you're being eaten alive, Ms. Tyler."

That was when he disappeared from view.

"Nerve of him!" Rose said angrily, still staring after the Commander, "See? This is the problem with Torchwood. What if shooting the gang members just makes a bad situation even worse? We don't even know how big this gang is, for god's sake! I'm sorry, Jimmy, but I think we should—Jimmy?"

When she turned around, she realised that he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to her ranting. In fact, he seemed to be doing a bit of ranting himself, aiming all his steadily climbing distress at the small, black mobile against his ear.

"Come on, damn it, pick up!" he all but shouted into the contraption. He went quiet the next moment, then frowned and pulled the phone from his ear, looking at it in his palm. "Shouldn't have let her take the bus to work today," he muttered, looking almost as though he was about to cry, "Should have gone to her flat to pick her up like I was supposed to…"

"Jimmy?" Rose moved closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong? What's going on?"

He looked up at her, and the fear was so deeply embedded in his eyes that Rose was nearly prompted to reach out and give him a hug.

"Shareen's not picking up her phone," he told Rose quietly, "It just keeps on ringing. It never does that. You know how she is."

Rose nodded knowingly. It was true. Out of everyone Rose knew, out of everyone on Earth most likely, Shareen was probably the last person who would allow a call to run out on her phone. It was her main, most well-known pet peeve when people did that. She was borderline-neurotic about it.

The only instance in which Shareen Costello wouldn't answer her phone was over her cold, dead—

"Keep calling," Rose's voice came out too high-pitched and alarmed to uphold the calm she was trying to instil in Jimmy, "It's—it's probably just buried in her purse or something. Maybe she's already at the lab and—and she's on about some new theory on the movement of time or something. Head in the clouds, that one."

It didn't escape her notice that the excuses seemed horribly empty.

"Yeah," Jimmy nodded, the fact that he accepted the excuses so easily a testament to how anxious he really was. He put the phone to his ear again, "Yeah, you're probably right. Just Shareen being scatterbrained, I reckon. She's been a little off lately as it is. She's probably just—hello?"

Rose blew out a breath of relief when it appeared that Shareen had picked up, but the breath quickly trapped itself nervously back in her lungs as she took in Jimmy's confused expression.

"Who's this?" he asked.

…

Halfway through his second plate of chips, the Doctor's concern for Rose's friend had reached its peak. He really should have insisted on walking her to the bus. He couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a mistake on his part to let her go it alone.

And so, he'd paid for the chips (with some spare change Rose had kindly left for him in his coat pocket) and had set off to make sure that Shareen had at least found her way.

Exiting the shop, he hadn't walked far before encountering something wholly out of place.

There, on the floor.

A purse.

A purse that he had almost definitely seen on Shareen's arm not a half hour ago and was now lying on the ground with obvious valuables spilling out from inside. One such valuable, a small, silver mobile, was buzzing insistently where it lay forgotten.

The Doctor resolved to pick it up, if anything just to find out how it had wound up on the ground in the first place.

"Hello?" someone, a male, on the other side of the line spoke.

"Um, hi," the Doctor said, noticing that the voice sounded vaguely familiar, "Is this Shareen's phone?"

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"The Doctor," he answered easily, "Who is not the owner of this phone, by the way. Although I'm guessing that you already knew that, seeing as you called and all. Just to confirm, were you calling Shareen when you called? 'Cause I'm fairly certain that this might be her phone, but not one hundred percent."

"Doctor?" the man on the other side asked, "As in Rose's Doctor?"

Rose's Doctor. That had a nice ring to it, actually. Not that the Doctor was dwelling on that fact. Nope. Not at all.

Then something abruptly clicked.

"Jimmy," he recognised the person on the other side of the line.

"Is that the Doctor?" another, unmistakably familiar voice sounded in the background, "Why's he have Shareen's phone? Hold on, give it here. Let me talk to him."

The Doctor waited, listening to the sound of shuffling as the phone passed hands.

"Hello," Rose greeted, the sound of her making the Doctor feel inherently happy inside and causing their link to flow the slightest bit more strongly.

"Hi," the Doctor returned, "You having fun?"

"Not exactly," she told him, and both in her voice and the link could the Doctor feel light panic set in, "We have a problem."

"Shareen's gone missing," he confirmed.

"Yeah. Why do you have her phone, by the way?"

"We had a lunch date," he said shortly, before returning to Doctor-mode, "Any idea as to who or, as the case may be, _what's_ taken her?"

"Um, yeah, we think it may be the—" she paused for a moment, prompting the Doctor to send soothing, reassuring thoughts her way. She continued, "We think it may have been the Vespultarians."

At this the Doctor frowned. "Vespultarians? Since when have there been Vespultarians 'round these parts?"

"Years, apparently," she told him, "They've formed a gang called the Peckham Boys. Taken to kidnapping girls in their late teens and early twenties." Another pause. "Doctor, we need to find her."

"We will," he assured her, "First things first, though, where are you?"

"Abandoned parking garage," she said.

Choosing, for the moment, to forgo asking about _that _specific piece of perplexing information (because that's exactly where jeopardy-friendly Rose Tyler _would_ be), he addressed the current problem.

"Alright. I want you to go back to Jackie's flat—not alone, take Jimmy with you—and wait there until I've gotten Shareen."

"You want me to sit around and do nothing?!" she cried imploringly, just as the Doctor had expected she would.

"Yes," he told her curtly, his tone conveying no-nonsense, "Vespultarians are like wolves, Rose. Take one alone, it's not as threatening, but take a group and you have a well-oiled killing machine. I can't focus on getting past that and finding Shareen while worrying about your safety, too. Especially not with our heightened sensitivity towards each other now that the link is intact."

"And what if _you _get hurt, Doctor?" she asked him quietly, "'Cause see, you've only been thinking about this bond from the one side. You do realise that if you go all hero martyr and get yourself regenerated again, it'll feel like I'm dying, too?"

He flinched at her words, but his resolve held strongly. "I'm still more durable than you are. My chances of getting killed are far less likely than yours."

"How sure are we of that?" she asked, and the Doctor became wise to the fact that the words held far more meaning than what they said on the surface.

"Rose, I know we still need to talk about all of that."

"Yeah, but first we need to save Shareen, and I'm not letting you go it alone."

"No, I said—"

And no more of the sentence came.


	41. Episode 3 Part 10

"Rose? Rose!"

She groaned, batting blindly at the source of the noise. It wasn't time to get up yet. The Doctor could stand to wait a few more minutes before whisking them off on the next adventure.

"Just five more minutes, Doctor," she mumbled.

"Well, that's a bit degrading," the voice remarked.

Wait. _That _wasn't the Doctor…

Rose's eyes snapped open at the speed of light as everything came back to her in almost painful focus. She sat bolt upright, nearly conking heads with Jimmy, leaning over her, in the process.

"What's happened?!" she asked, grasping his shoulders urgently.

"Ouch!" he cried before prying her hands gently from his torso. "Watch the claws there, pussycat," he advised her wisely, "I don't even know what happened myself. One minute you're talking with the Doctor on the phone and the next you're keeling over. Scared me half to death."

Rose nodded, her heart beating faster as the new information took shape and became a valid explanation in her mind. "They must've taken him," she said decisively, "Sedated him with that venom of theirs. Must be some strong stuff if it managed to knock me out, too."

"Huh?" Jimmy's brow creased quizzically, "How d'you mean? The venom knocked the both of you out?"

At this Rose clamped her mouth shut, realising that she just may have said too much. She attempted to divert the subject away from her blunder. "How long was I out for?"

"'Bout five minutes," he told her. His face became steely, "Which puts us back another five minutes in saving Shareen."

Her gaze turned sympathetic. "We'll find her, Jim," she tried reassuring him.

"Oh, I know we will," he said, and something dangerously wild flashed in his eyes, "And so help me, if she's hurt in any way by the time I get to her…"

A small shiver ran down her spine upon seeing the sudden coldness in his eyes. Jimmy's all-too familiar tone scared her to no end; it was talk like that that could get someone, human and fragile especially, killed. Instead of lecturing him about this as she no doubt would have in another situation, though, Rose's own anxiety prompted her to spur swift action on their part. It was true, after all; time was running out.

"They've no doubt been taken to the Boys' home base by now," she murmured thoughtfully. She looked up at him, and she knew that the determination on his face was mirrored on hers, "And if they're there, then that's where we need to be."

"So, what?" Jimmy said impatiently, "We wait until one of the teams send the home base coordinates? That could take hours!"

"No," Rose shook her head, and on her lips became known a slightly manic grin, "I was thinking more along the lines of going fishing."

…

The Doctor dragged his eyes open with a groan. As he opened them, he was momentarily disoriented by the apparent lack of information that his sight receptors were giving him. Everything around him was pitch black.

Then, as quickly as it had taken for his mind to come to the revelation that his surroundings were, in fact, shrouded in darkness, his sight receptors were just as suddenly assaulted by an onslaught of information.

He uttered a low oath, throwing up a shielding hand to his face to block out the light scratching long-clawed at his eyes. Around him the sudden change in lighting had all matter of objects in the room wobbling around his field of vision in a blurry cascade of colours.

His vision cleared and sharpened slowly, something the Doctor knew wasn't normal for his body. Obviously he had been given quite a large dose of some kind of sedative. Vespultarian sedative, his mind deduced promptly after.

He seemed to be in some kind of cell. Or a room made to look like a cell, at least. Judging from the sparse patches of tiling on the walls and floor and the badly maintained piping that ran through the room, the Doctor thought that the place must have once been a small bathroom. He continued surveying, noticing how covered with dirt and grime the room, absent of any furniture save a rickety bed in a far corner, was.

And there, running along the narrow fissure between wall and floor—

Was that blood?

"Ah good! Was wondering how long you were going to be out for. Blorthin and them gave you enough sedative to floor a horse, they did."

The Doctor propped himself up on his elbows, wishing that he could turn around faster than he was. His limbs felt strangely heavy and languid, he realised, though his bones felt oddly light. He'd never been in the position to have garnered first-hand experience of the sensation, but still he knew what it was. The Vespultarian venom was softening his insides.

He finally managed to catch sight of his captor. A pale young man with cruel, black eyes and a head of bright red hair. Textbook Vespultarian.

"W—where's Shareen?" he asked, his words coming out garbled and mushed together.

The Vespultarian smiled, revealing two rows of sharp teeth.

"You mean your little girlfriend?" he asked vindictively, "Oh, she has a nice cell all to herself. Gave her the premium package, we did." He laughed, a horribly ruthless, pitiless sound. "We had the human grunts take her, so the sedative's only just been administered. All the boys are going on about how this one is their prettiest catch yet. Might just have to let them have their way with her eventually so they can get it out of their systems."

The Doctor heaved another painful grunt as he pushed himself up further. "Don't—you dare," he grumbled almost unintelligibly.

"Oh, lighten up, old man!" the Vespultarian said with an eye roll.

The Doctor was about to reply when, faster than a flash, the alien was suddenly in his face, hoisting him up by the lapels of his jacket.

"'Cause that's what you are, ain't you?" he murmured, his breath smelling of sweat and the rust of old blood, "_Old_. Older than a human could possibly be." His eyes flicked over the Doctor's body disdainfully. "We smelt it on you first thing when we found you. Smelt the pumping of blood through your veins. It was so obvious, right there, what you were."

His lip curled in disgust, "You just _stink_ of Time Lord."

The Doctor looked at the alien with an unfathomable amount of sadness. "I'm sorry about your planet," he told him.

Then he was abruptly slammed into the cold hardness of a wall.

"Don't you even _talk_ about it!" the Vespultarian spat at him through gritted teeth. He slammed him into the wall once more for good measure, and the Doctor felt the beginnings of a nasty lump forming on the back of his head. "Your Time War cost us everything. D'you hear that? _Everything_," the alien told him in a menacingly quiet rage, "We didn't ask to share a solar system with you. Didn't ask to be dictated by the laws of the bloody Time Lords, and yet you lauded it over us for _thousands_ of years! Forced us to fight your battles when the Daleks decided that Vespultar was a good colony to take."

He gripped the Doctor's lapels even tighter, pulling him so that they were nose-to-nose. "And when you lot went and decided to blow everything up," he told him, "Only half of us made it out of Kasterborous. I lost my mate, my parents, my _children_—"

The Vespultarian threw him back on the ground.

"If only one Time Lord's gonna pay for that," he said coldly, "It's gonna be you."

That was when the alien turned on his heel and exited the cell, the sound of a door slamming and a lock clicking ringing in the Doctor's ears.

The Doctor stared after the Vespultarian, feeling as his hearts clenched in his chest. The Time Lords _had _been unjust towards the Vespultarians in the time of their existence. No matter which way the Gallifreyan history books had spun the tale, the Doctor had always seen the blatant fact of the matter. It had been exactly that kind of unfairness on the part of the Time Lords that had prompted him to flee from them and to pursue this life he led in the first place.

But still the inescapable fact remained this:

The Doctor had been the one to destroy their planet in the end. He'd been the one that had caused them their greatest injustice.

And look what the once mighty race had been reduced to now because of his actions. They were monsters.

He shook his head sadly, allowing himself a scarce second of mourning for what had been lost. Then he jumped into action. Or crawled, rather. He moved, dragging himself by his slightly more mobile arms, to the nearest wall. Once there, he manoeuvred himself into a standing position against it painfully.

Lucky for him, Time Lord physiology was very durable when it came to poisonous toxins. Those native to the seven systems even more so. The Doctor saw to it that all his attention was then focused on the anaesthetic venom running through his doubly fast blood stream. Sooner rather than later, he felt the relief that came with his body's toxin neutralisation systems kicking in.

He found himself capable of lifting his hand more easily, using it to dig through his coat pocket until his fingers fastened around the object of his search. He smiled victoriously, procuring his sonic.

Now on to more daunting missions…

…

"You sure about this, Rose?" Jimmy once again asked her doubtfully over the phone.

"You want to get Shareen back, don't you?"

"Of course I do! But the Doctor said—"

"The Doctor's been captured too, remember? I've officially put him on the list of people we're _not _listening to. Not that he's actually ever been _off _the list in the first place, mind. He has a tendency to go all _Lone Ranger_."

Jimmy watched the point where Rose stood two storeys down, her small mobile pressed to her ear. They'd formulated the plan, or _she _had, about an hour ago: he was to stay in the parking garage, communicating with her via mobile, while she went downstairs and made herself—available-looking enough to seem a beckoning target to any passing gang members. Once they'd taken her, she'd told him, he was to follow them to home base where they were—in some impossible, undetermined fashion—going to save their significant others and in the process destroy the queen single-handedly.

"But maybe we should just call in some reinforcements once they've taken you," he tried reasoning with her.

"And risk the Vespultarians spotting an ambush and killing Shareen and the Doctor on the spot?" she said stubbornly, "I don't think so."

Jimmy sighed, watching worriedly Rose's slight form in the weak light of the late afternoon sun. She had made herself look rather fit, he had to admit. Upon explaining the plan to him, she'd proceeded to pop the top button of the standard, black Torchwood jacket he'd given her and had dipped her head so as to efficiently joosh-up her hair in a messy tousle. She'd topped the overall look off by rummaging through her denim pocket (which had seemed oddly larger on the inside) and pulling out some red lipstick, promptly applying it to her lips.

"Are you set on what you're supposed to do?" she asked him again.

He opened his mouth to give affirmation, when a jovial voice on the other side of the line sounded.

"Oh, look what we have here, boys!" it exclaimed.

Jimmy watched powerlessly as one and then immediately thereafter a dozen men obscured her from view. "Rose?" Jimmy called urgently, feeling his concern for her start to rise, "Rose, this was a bad idea. What if the Doctor manages to get out and finds out I've gone and let something happen to you? Rose?!"

"Show time," she breathed before ending the call.


	42. Episode 3 Part 11

The rest of the house was just as grime-filled as the bathroom from hell had been.

After having activated a perception filter in his TARDIS key, the Doctor carefully edged along a dirty wall, sonic serving as both torch and defence. He was honestly appalled at the state of it all: each intermittent room he passed had been renovated for some horrendous purpose. Some served as cells, seemingly empty but showing evidence of the ghastly violence that had taken place there. Other rooms, a blood-spattered kitchen in particular, spoke even more loudly of the Vespultarians' crimes against humanity.

The Vespultarians he passed on his way, all clearly gorged on human flesh and most likely other recreational drugs, only served to heighten his outrage. By the time the Doctor heard a pained groan as he passed a room in one of the lower levels of the house, he was absolutely livid.

He rushed into the room, what had once been a cupboard-sized bedroom, to find an ashen Shareen lying abandoned on the floor. He crouched down beside her, swiftly feeling for a pulse, and she protested feebly.

"No," she moaned, trying to pull her hand from his grasp, "Please, don't."

The Doctor's mood darkened as Shareen's words prompted the question and terrible answers of what may already have been done to her. He tried to put it from his mind, however, coming to the decision that his first priority at the moment was the task of calming his new patient.

"It's alright," he told her soothingly, "It's the Doctor. I'm going to help you."

Her eyes cracked open a millimetre, revealing overly dilated pupils. "Doctor?" she inquired weakly.

He gave her a small smile. "That's me."

She gave a disbelieving laugh at this. "You bought me chips," she stated nonsensically.

The Doctor understood that this was her selective recall taking action. That was good. That meant that she was still thinking. "Yep, I did," he confirmed, "And you should know, Shareen Costello, that I don't just buy chips for anyone. Right cheapskate, that's what they call me."

She gave another weak chuckle. "That's what Rose said," she mumbled, "Told me she had to pay the bill on your first date. Shame on you."

The Doctor grinned down at her, even though inside he was feeling an impending sense of worry. The dose of sedative given to her hadn't been as large as the dose he'd received, but the effects still had the potential to be crippling. He knew that the toxins' effects became irreversible 'round about six hours after initial injection. He calculated that she'd gone roughly two hours with the venom in her system so far; he had to get her out as soon as possible.

Suddenly, some strength appeared to return to her, as Shareen pushed herself up a little more forcefully. "Blurred vision, difficulty breathing, loss of muscle control, hypotension—" she spoke rapid-fire, the words blurring into long lines of barely comprehensible gibberish, "All symptoms of poisoning." She managed to push herself up even further, her eyes shooting open wide in a panic, "Doctor, the baby! What's gonna happen to my baby?!"

Her breathing became ragged, sapping her already waning energy resources. The Doctor pushed her to lie back down gently. "Your baby hasn't developed far enough yet for there to be any threat to it," the Doctor explained to her calmly, "We're going to get both of you out of here soon and I'll run a check on you to be certain, but for now just know that there's nothing to worry about."

Rassilon, he prayed that he was right.

"Oh, alright, then," she said, all the fight draining from her. She lay back down.

The Doctor took the opportunity to plan an escape then. He looked around, trying to discern whether there was a window in any shape or form in the near vicinity. From what he found, though, the windows were all tightly boarded-up from the outside. There was always walking out of the front door, he supposed, but that brought up the problematic issue that there was only one perception filter between him and Shareen. It left the choice being whether it was wiser for him to wear the filter while carrying her, or for her to wear the filter in the event that they got caught.

Finally, he resolved that the former was the better option. He'd just have to leg it out of there as fast as he could.

"Shareen," he told her in his best doctor-voice, "I'm going to pick up you up now. It's the only way for us to get out of here. I'm sorry for any discomfort it may cause you."

"'Kay," she said tiredly, and the Doctor knew that she hadn't heard a word of what he'd said.

Nonetheless, he moved forward and lifted the petite girl in his arms, setting off in search of the exit.

This time around he was especially careful to avoid the dwindling sights of the Vespultarians in various forms of inebriation that he passed. All the cells that he came across in his search came up empty, too, which was a huge relief for the Doctor. Thankfully he was only going to have to focus on saving the one person today.

Finally, the Doctor turned a corner and spotted the first source of natural light he'd come across in the house of doom. As he neared, he saw that the light was pooling in from the cracks in an obvious barrier that led to the outside world.

He blew out a hard breath. Victory was in sight.

Then the door opened, once again confining the Doctor to the shadows.

He watched as a group of men—human, he noted—entered the abode. The men were obviously just as hocked-up on illegal substances as the Vespultarians were, laughing and, from what he could discern, trading all manner of degrading comments amongst each other.

"You think old Crispon's going to let us have at this one?" he caught one of them saying, "It'd be a right shame to let one as pretty as this just pass us by!"

With a wave of fury and a sharp clenching of his jaw, the Doctor realised that they must be referring to a latest victim. He looked down at Shareen in his arms indecisively. He had to get her out of here. And quickly. Neither he nor Rose would ever forgive him if he allowed any harm to come to her or her child. He resolved that he'd just have to come back to emancipate the new victim once he'd gotten Shareen to safety and had assured that she and the baby were in good health.

But first he was going to have to wait until the coast was clear.

It was with a certain resignation that the Doctor then stood, pressed against the wall and ensuring that his inconspicuous state held. He watched more of the human gang members file into the house, each member contributing some or other disgusting comment on what exactly they were planning for the new victim. He felt a flash of concern for the poor captured girl once again; he had to get to her before any harm came to her. He hoped that he would be able to.

The ruckus caused by the bandits reached a crescendo, becoming peppered with whoops and whistles of appreciation. The Doctor gathered that the girl had arrived.

"Here she is!" the largest male of the group announced as he entered, dragging the struggling girl in behind him.

"Where are you keeping the Doctor, you twat!?" she shouted angrily.

That was when the Doctor froze.

The men dragged her to the centre of the room, where they posed her in the middle of the now large group of Vespultarians and humans alike, all shouting disrespectful and horrible things at her. The Doctor nearly went to her right there and then.

The only thing that stopped him from doing exactly that, in fact, was when Rose's eyes met his from across the room, the link giving her the ability to see through the perception filter.

_What the hell do you think you're doing?! _He shouted at her through the link in a state of alarm.

_Saving you, _she said matter-of-factly before her eyes fell to the too-still Shareen in his arms. She paled. _I'll distract them while you get her out._

He looked at her in bewilderment. _You really expect me leave you here? Have you gone insane?!_

_How are they not seeing you? _She asked him, uneasiness flaring in her mind as she cast a nervous glance at the men.

_Perception filter in my TARDIS key_, he answered curtly. _Rose, I can't just leave you._

_You'll come back, yeah? _She tried reassuring him. _Really you'll just be__—_

She was abruptly dealt a hard slap across the face.

"I said," the man who'd dealt the slap, the same one who'd brought her in, told her, "Look at me, bitch."

The Doctor's eyes widened for a second in shock before he took an enraged step forward, ready to break the offending hand and maybe some of the man's other bones, too.

_Stay back! _Rose warned him, her eyes on the other man's face and her expression appropriately repentant, _I can only hold them off for so long. Now get Shareen out of here before they realise you're not where they left you._

_No. I'm not leaving you with these people, _he said decisively.

_You don't have to_, she told him as she cast the tiniest of glances his way before returning her eyes to the face of her captor, _Jimmy's outside. He's followed me here. Just give Shareen to him and you can come back._

_Rose__—_

"Well, well, well," a voice announced as it entered the room, "Three catches in one day! Gotta say boys, you've certainly outdone yourselves."

The Doctor looked up from Rose's face to see the Vespultarian that had previously been in his cell stroll up to Rose. Around them, the other gang members gave different variations of cheers and greetings at their apparent leader's arrival.

"Crispon," the man who'd brought Rose in nodded an acknowledgement, stepping aside for the Vespultarian to take her in fully, "Fine one, isn't she? Reckon she's gonna be a right treat."

Rose gave a visible shudder as Crispon put a hand under her chin and tilted her head up for a better view of her face. "Pretty," he remarked, his fingers menacingly gentle, "What was that you were saying about a doctor earlier, love?"

The Doctor felt a sharp stab of fear through the link and then a second later caught her pushing the feeling down and replacing it with defiance. That was his Rose; staring down danger with that stubborn ire of hers. Brave to a definite fault.

_Go_, she reiterated.

He stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from the sight of the Vespultarian's eyes boring into hers.

"Don't got no doctors here," Crispon told her, much to the amused laughter of the other gang members, "You won't be needing no doctors after we're done with you, seeing as there won't be much left of you to put back together."

Another bout of fear rolled through Rose, and this time she didn't—or couldn't—push it back down.

She still stared the Vespultarian leader down unwaveringly, though. Of course she did. She was Rose Tyler and she'd be damned if she showed any creature how much they truly scared her.

Crispon took in her obvious steadfast stance with amusement clear in his eyes and a small, upwards-quirk of his lips. He stood like that, staring in silence, for a minute, before a flash of recognition abruptly flared in his eyes. "Unless…" he said slowly, and this time the quirk became a full-blown grin, "Unless it's not any old doctor you're looking for."

Rose's face remained carefully blank.

_Get her out of here! _She told the Doctor again.

The Doctor looked down at Shareen, growing paler by the second. He couldn't just let her die. He knew that. He looked up at the view of his mate literally surrounded by danger.

But what if saving Shareen meant losing Rose?

Feeling his indecisiveness, Rose sent a gentle caress to his mind his way.

_I can't lose you_, he told her simply.

_You won't, _she answered.

He started moving for the exit, his eyes locked on Rose's exchange with Crispon all the way. Eventually he felt the cool air of the early evening against the back of his neck, the final gap between the horror of the Vespultarian lair and the normalcy of the outside world.

He took the step and, shortly after, felt the almost physical pain of turning his back on Rose and the clearly life-and-death danger she was in. It was like he hated himself for it as he felt the still-present stream of her fear running through his mind.

That feeling spurred on his urgency.

The Doctor hurriedly walked down the street of dilapidated townhouses he'd exited onto. Amazingly enough, the Vespultarian house wasn't even the most sorry one of the lot. He walked quickly, briskly until he reached a small alleyway at the end of the street.

And the gangly man running from it.

Jimmy nearly collided full on with him with the haste in which he made his way over to the Time Lord. Not one second of the run did he seem to notice the Doctor, however, as his eyes were locked on Shareen's paling face all the way.

"Oh god," he said in a panic, taking Shareen from the Doctor's arms without warning. The Doctor complied silently, "Oh god, oh god, oh god." He ran a trembling hand over her cheek, "What have they gone and done to you, Ree?"

"She has Vespultarian venom in her system," the Doctor told him stonily, "It's killing her. She only has about four hours left."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "_Four hours_?!" he said in horror. His eyes fell back down to Shareen as he clutched her tighter to his chest, "N—no. No, she can't—she _can't _just—" he looked at the Doctor again, "You can help her though, right? You can save her. RIGHT?!"

"Yeah, I was busy with that," the Doctor told him impassively, "'Til you went and got Rose involved in all of this. Now I have to go back for her first."

"_And what if Shareen dies while you're busy saving her?!_" Jimmy shouted at him, clearly having being pushed past the point of reason by Shareen's state.

"Then I would've still gotten Rose out," he answered flatly.

Jimmy looked at him in furious bewilderment. Had he not been holding Shareen in his arms then, the Doctor was sure that he would have taken a swing at him.

As the case was, though, Jimmy just continued to stare at the Doctor as he swung around and marched back to the house.


	43. Episode 3 Part 12

"Nice place you've got here," Rose said conversationally as Crispon and his burly lackey shoved her through the dark, abhorrent regions of the house, "You do the decorating yourself?"

Crispon looked back at her over his shoulder. "You're quite the odd one, aren't you?" he said, "Throw any other girl in a rat-infested, alien gang hole and she'd be screaming our ears off by now, but not you."

He led them up a small flight of rickety stairs, stopping them in front of a non-descript, dirt-covered door. There Crispon gave her a strangely contemplative look. "I thought you were Torchwood when I first layed eyes on you," he said, and suddenly his hand had flashed forward, moving under the hem of her jacket and pulling out her hidden gun. "Standard issue," he explained as he tossed the gun in the air and caught it as though it were a toy, "The jacket, too. These Torchwood blokes really are thick as bricks, aren't they? Practically any alien in the great UK can spot them from a mile off." He gave a short laugh. "They're not as bad as those UNIT prats though, I suppose," he pulled a face, "I mean, _red berets_? Really? How stupid can you be?!"

Rose remained silent, knowing that anything she said might compromise the situation. Walking through the depths of the house and having passed dulled humans and Vespultarians alike on the way, she'd realised that this Crispon seemed by far sharper than the rest. If anyone was a danger, it was likely the leader.

"But _then_," Crispon said excitedly, "Plot twist! She mentions a Doctor and, just so happens, I suddenly have a very rare species of Time Lord in my possession. And this very coincidental occurrence suddenly gets me thinking—could it be?" He grinned, baring his blood-stained canines. "Could it be that I've actually caught—_the _Doctor? As in, _Destroyer of Worlds_?"

Crispon's hand raised, tracing a path down Rose's cheek with a calloused finger. "He killed billions, you know," he told her quietly, "Became the most feared being in Kasterborous with the push of a button. The _Oncoming Storm_, they called him. Even the Daleks were afraid of him."

His eyes raked over her body once more before he spun around, flinging the door at his back open with a good measure theatricality. "And now, Doctor, you've gone and mated with a hum—"

The speed with which the smug smile dropped off Crispon's face in reaction to the empty room was almost comical. In fact, Rose had to bite her lip to stifle the very out-of-place and likely dangerous giggle that threatened to escape her lips at the sight of his dumb-struck expression.

Her amusement soon disappeared, though, when Crispon spun back around to face her, grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her into the room. She landed on the cold tiling painfully. When she looked up, Crispon was standing over, pointing her very own gun at her head. He deftly flicked the tiny switch on the gun back to kill.

"Mate for a mate, then?" he said balefully.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Rose blew out a breath in relief as she heard the sound of the Doctor's voice, albeit with his "no-second-chances" inflection. The next moment he'd strode into the room, moved towards Rose and helped her to her feet, paying the gun that Crispon now had rigged on the both of them no mind.

"Are you alright?" he asked her seriously.

"Yeah," she told him, keeping a wary eye on Crispon over his shoulder all the same, "Shareen?"

"Still dying."

She looked at him imploringly. "Doctor, I _told _you to make sure that she was safe first before you came back here for me!"

"Yes, and I _told _you to stay out of all this!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do?! Just sit around like some worried, little housewife and wait for you to either figure out some reckless plan on the spot or for you to get the both of you killed in the process?!"

"With the alternative being what, exactly?! You running headlong into danger and getting _all three of us_ killed?!"

"Well, I learned from the best, didn't I?!"

"What, Torchwood?" he asked her quietly, casting an eye over her jacket.

Rose looked down at the piece of clothing, silently cursing the fact that she'd agreed to put the thing on in the first place. When she looked up at him again, she saw the flash of something akin to betrayal in his eyes. Her stomach flipped guiltily at the sight of it.

"Much as I'm loving the tella novella unfolding here in front of my eyes," Crispon remarked, turning their attention back to more immediate matters, "I am very well going to kill one or both of you in the course of the next few seconds."

The Doctor shot him a death glare, turning so that he was standing with his body between Crispon and Rose. "I am sorry for what happened to you, Crispon," he told him, "But this, what you lot are doing here, it's wrong. I'm giving you one chance to leave this planet and never come back, or I'll see to it that all of you are stopped."

Crispon looked at him incredulously for a second.

"Are you seeing that I'm the one holding the gun in this situation?" he asked, waving the weapon around for effect, "You're hardly in a position to be making demands, Doctor."

"So be it," the Doctor said shortly, causing Rose to look up at him worriedly.

_Rose_, he spoke into her mind, _give me your phone._

_Why? _

She felt a brief bout of exasperation through the link aimed at her. She frowned at it.

_Just do it, please, _he told her.

Still frowning, she handed him her phone inconspicuously. He took it, eyes steadily on Crispon's face. The Vespultarian seemed to be giving a monologue of some sort.

" —for all those who have suffered the loss of Vespultar, the loss of their friends, families, minds. All under the treachery of the Time Lord race. You, Doctor, represent the degradation of our mighty society. The blood of all the innocents we've killed since is on your hands—"

The Doctor dialled the number into Rose's mobile and lifted the device to his mouth in one quick motion. He spoke only one word to the person on the other side of the line.

"Now."

…

_Fifteen minutes earlier…_

The Doctor stopped dead halfway to the Vespultarians' lair. He heaved a sigh and walked back to where Jimmy stood helplessly, stroking Shareen's hair and whispering nonsensical things to her.

"You saw through my perception filter," he stated as he came to stand in front of Jimmy once again.

The young man looked up at the Doctor in surprise, startled from his and Shareen's little world. He shook himself a bit before replying. "Um yeah, is that important?"

"Seeing through a perception filter that easily requires at least a basic level of psychic training," the Doctor continued. He nodded at Jimmy's black jacket and the gun holstered on his belt. "You work for Torchwood."

Jimmy nodded, knowing that there was no point in denying it. "Yeah."

"That's where you took Rose today."

"Yes."

"Jimmy?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever take her near there again, I'll see to it that you're put back in Brixton."

Jimmy swallowed, seeing that the Doctor was entirely serious. He had no doubt that the alien had the power to accomplish it, too. It was no secret that the Time Lord had garnered some weighty influence in upper Earth circles.

"Explain to me exactly what your mission was for the Vespultarians today," he ordered.

Jimmy did explain, giving the Doctor a brief summary of what the initial plan stipulated by Commander Jenkins had been.

"So it's safe to assume that there's still an entire party of Torchwood operatives on standby around these parts, then?" the Doctor inquired.

Jimmy nodded. "They're waiting on the first team to get a lock on the home base location."

"Good," the Doctor said. He waved a hand towards the house in the background, "Radio in now and tell them where it is. When they arrive, tell them to wait for my word."

The Doctor had already started for the house again by the time Jimmy registered what he'd said. "But wait," he called after him, "Who's to say they'll listen to you?"

The Doctor's reply just barely reached his ears:

"I'm the Doctor," he said, "They'll listen."


	44. Episode 3 Part 13

Chaos broke loose the moment the short word was spoken. As the Doctor calmly ended the call and handed Rose's mobile back to her, a monumental explosion caused the entire frame of the house to tremble around them, both Crispon and Rose nearly losing their footing in surprise.

The Doctor, however, stood fast as his arm shot out to grab Rose's, first steadying her and then pulling her along before she'd gotten the chance to fully gather her bearings.

"What's happening?!" Rose asked the back of his head as she was swiftly whisked past an alarmed Crispon and into the dark hallway that was now steadily filling with acrid smoke.

All she got as answer was a muttered curse. "A _bomb_?!" he ranted, steadily gaining in speed and making it difficult for her to keep up with his large strides, "Give humans a problem to solve and what do they do? Let's throw _a bomb _at it! Honestly, you lot and your violence, it's a wonder you still exist at all…"

"Doctor, hold on," Rose pulled him to a stop just before they reached the stairs leading to the lower landing and, judging from the evidence gathered thus far, an even greater amount of smoke.

The Doctor looked at her imploringly for only a split second before pulling on her arm again. "There's no time for this now, Rose. This place is going down. We need to—"

"Listen to it down there, Doctor," she told him, her words focusing attention on the sounds of shots firing and screams ringing below them. A battle raging pointlessly, killing human and Vespultarians alike while, Rose knew, the true problem at hand remained unsolved. "They're so busy killing each other that no one's focusing on the mission." She fixed him with a steely, stubborn expression, "We need to find the queen to end this once and for all."

He had already been shaking his head at the start of her speech. "No, that's not how it works," he told her dangerously, "I got Shareen out before coming back to get you. That's what we agreed on me doing before you'd leave. She's out, we're going." He started pulling her with him again.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed angrily, pulling her hand from his grip and ignoring the Oncoming Storm look he shot her as she stood her ground. She plainly ignored the painful tears starting to prick in her eyes from the lack of oxygen and abundance of smoke in the air, "Is this how it's gonna be now, then? You dictating everything that we do? Running away from people that need our help, 'cause we might get hurt? This is what we do, Doctor! We take a stand, no matter what it might cost us!"

"I'm not just gonna leave them," he told her in a low voice, "Once you get out—"

"You'll come back, yeah?" Rose said, even more livid at the fact that he still didn't seem to get to it, "On your own? God, you seriously don't get it, do you?! We're in this together, you and me. Now more than ever! You can't just go swanning off into danger and expect me to sit around and wait for you to save the day! You need to start trusting that I can handle myself, Doctor."

"See, you keep saying that," he launched at her, his already precarious control seeming to snap like a twig as he spun around to face her fully, "But then, when I actually _do _let go just the tiniest bit, you land yourself here!" He waved at their surroundings angrily, "How do you expect me to trust you if you keep trying to kill yourself?!"

She saw it flash in his eyes then. Hurt. Old hurt. And fear. He was so terrified of losing her in so many ways. What was more, he knew what it felt like to lose her. The ghost of that pain still gnawed at him so clearly. For months, even though Rose hadn't known what its source was, she'd seen it. Almost felt its intensity in the moments he'd look at her as though she were something precious slowly slipping through his fingers before he'd hide the look behind a well-rehearsed grin and a clever quip_._

She'd been blindsided by the future that now stretched so far before her earlier today. For the first time since she'd met the Doctor, she'd been faced with a reality in which the forever she'd promised the Doctor was a very real, very irreversible possibility. And, human and overwhelmed as she had been, she'd run from it. Run from the Doctor, run from forever, run for the nearest distraction she could find just to avoid her own fears.

How startlingly similar she and the Doctor really were.

Rose lifted a hand to softly touch his cheek, and the look on the Doctor's face turned from one of indignation to confusion. The look only intensified when Rose let out a disbelieving laugh.

"We keep ending up here, don't we?" she told him softly, "Keep nearly getting killed and then fighting about it." She gave another laugh and his brow furrowed, his face for all the world looking like an inquiry pertaining to her sanity.

Rose just continued smiling up at him, a bit sadly. "All those monsters out there, and the thing that turns out to scare us most is each other."

His eyes widened for only a moment before softening as the fight drained from his body, his lips quirking up slightly and mirroring her sad amusement. Slowly he lifted a hand to cover hers where it rested on his cheek, bringing it down and allowing their fingers to entwine.

"I'm terrified," he admitted quietly.

"As rightly you should be," a voice sounded from behind Rose.

Suddenly, she was ripped from his grasp in a flash of speed that could only belong to Vespultarian reflex. Before the Doctor had fully processed what had happened, he was faced with the sight of Crispon gripping Rose closely to his chest, one hand grasping at her throat and the other holding the standard Torchwood handheld pistol pressed against her temple. As the Doctor watched in pale horror, Rose sputtered and choked while the Vespultarian leader slowly tightened his grip on her throat.

"So what do you think, Doctor?" he asked, his conversational tone marred by the aggressive baring of his sharp teeth, "Would you rather see me snap her neck, or blow her brains out? Both have their merits, I must say, but—" he pulled her closer to speak into her ear, causing her to whimper and the Doctor to take a jerky step forward, "I would pit _endless _enjoyment out of squeezing the life out of you myself. Death by gunshot is just so— _impersonal_ in comparison."

"Let her go," the Doctor said darkly, feeling the fear roll off Rose in waves despite her feeble reassurances in his mind, and hating Crispon all the more for it.

Crispon looked at him incredulously. "Or _what_?" he asked him loudly, his grip loosening on Rose somewhat as some measure of his desperation became known, "My men are already getting killed downstairs, my planet's gone, my family's dead. What, exactly, have I got to lose through doing this?"

The Doctor saw his finger twitch on the trigger of the gun and took another involuntary step forward.

Looking at her in the compromising position that she was, his mind couldn't help but jump back to the instance in which the Count had burnt Rose alive. She'd survived then when all reason had said that she should have died on the spot. She'd healed herself by somehow using her impossibility-defying artron levels then. Maybe, if she was shot now—

No. That was _not _going to happen, regenerative abilities or not. Aside from the fact that he had no way of knowing whether she would recover from such a fatality, any situation in which Rose would have to suffer even the smallest amount of pain was, in a word, unacceptable.

"Think about this, Crispon," the Doctor said slowly, trying not to agonise over the fact that Rose's face was turning an unhealthy shade of red from lack of air, "You've seen so much death already, faced so much pain. You of all people should be able to see how pointless even more of it is."

Crispon looked at him for a long moment, a small, "v"-shaped frown creasing his brow.

"You know," he said quietly, his grip loosening on Rose's throat completely and his hand lowering. The Doctor watched him with a carefully guarded expression, wariness colouring the relief he felt at Rose's ability to breathe again. "You're right, Doctor." He turned to Rose, raising the hand that had been around her throat again, "Lethal dose of sedative should put you out of your misery."

"_NO_!" the Doctor uttered the frightened cry, rushing forward just as Crispon's hand connected with the back of Rose's neck, the pistol connected with Crispon's temple, and a shot rang out through the hallway.

He careened backwards with the impact with which the large dose of toxin hit Rose's body, but was thankful when no infamous pain in his mind came that would signal the shattering of the bond. Instead, Rose's presence dimmed to a weak flutter as she fell backwards, spattered with Crispon's blood. The Doctor reached her just in time to catch her head before it hit the ground.

"Rose?" he breathed, brushing strands of hair from her face softly. He could already feel the building of energy in her mind as it set to work healing her and removing the toxin from her bloodstream. The feeling was like the sensation one got in the back of one's mind when another Time Lord underwent regeneration, but—not. This felt smaller in a way, and far more intimate.

"Rose?" he called again, stroking a hand over her forehead. He cast an eye worriedly at his smoke-filled surroundings and noted the fact that the sounds of battle were dying down downstairs. Torchwood would no doubt be demolishing the house if not the entire street soon. And they still needed to find the queen.

This time, Rose's eyelids fluttered open, and the Doctor looked on in wonder as he felt the strength return to her in full in mere instances. Her recovery time had been even swifter this go around. Her regenerative abilities were rapidly rising to rival those of a fully fledged Time Lord.

What the hell _was _she?

"Doctor?" she sat bolt upright. Her eyes bugged at the sight of her blood-covered arms and widened even more when she followed the trail of blood to Crispon's lifeless body laying beside her. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh god."

"No time," the Doctor told her gently, helping her to her feet and pulling her along by the hand, "Come on."

As they reached the first floor, the air was so thickly polluted with acrid gas from the bomb that the Doctor's respiratory bypass kicked in almost immediately. In comparison, Rose coughed and gagged painfully as she inhaled the first traces of the gas.

"Rose, get out of here," he told her, pushing her in the direction of the exit.

"No," she maintained stubbornly in-between coughs, "M'not—leaving you."

The Doctor rolled his eyes even as light panic for her well-being set in. "Rose, you'll be no good to me dead. Go outside, get some fresh air. I'll meet you out there in just a minute, I promise."

"M'fine," she coughed out, lifting a blood-stained sleeve to her face.

"Rose," the Doctor said, more firmly this time. Bloody woman. Why did she _insist _on being as stubborn as a mule at the best of times?!

"Oi!" someone called, and they both briefly felt a chilled shiver run down their spines as a gas-masked figure stepped closer to them. Luckily this figure seemed to be of the Torchwood-operative and not the Blitz-zombie variety. "What do you two think you're doing in here without masks?"

"We're—looking for—the queen," Rose wheezed, now supporting herself on the Doctor's arm as he looked on worriedly. The masked operative handed her a gas mask and she took it gratefully. She strapped the contraption to her face and gulped in a few much-needed breaths. The operative offered the Doctor one, too, but he waved it off, his eyes stuck on Rose's face until he was sure that she could breathe again.

"Have you found the queen yet?" Rose asked the operative once she'd had her fill of rejuvenating oxygen.

"Um—we think so," he said uncertainly, "In the cellar. It's the only explanation we could come up with for what it was but—it's not what we expected it to be."

The Doctor nodded knowingly. "Show me."

…

Rose kept her eyes firmly trained ahead as they walked, trying to avoid the carnage that lay at her feet. The brief siege that had raged beneath them as Crispon had held her captive had been brutal: Peckham Boys and Torchwood operatives alike had fallen under it.

She briefly wondered how many operatives had died in battle that day and, selfish though it was, was suddenly glad that she hadn't had the time to learn any of their names.

When they reached the cellar, the putrid stench of blood became so strong that Rose caught a whiff of it even through the thick glass of the mask. She pressed a little tighter still into the Doctor's side as the operative led the way down a narrow, dark flight of stairs at the end of a back hallway.

"What's that sound?" Rose asked, pressing two fingers to her temple painfully when her senses were abruptly filled with an irritating, low-pitched pulsing.

The operative threw her a glance over his shoulder. "There's no sound," he said with a frown.

"They wouldn't hear it," the Doctor told her quietly. "It's up here," he tapped at her temple lightly, "The Vespultarians are bound by a low-level telepathic network. They could never communicate through it like the Gallifreyans did, but they couldn't function without it either. It's like a secondary brain to them."

"So this 'queen'…" Rose said as they reached the bottom of the stairwell and the pulsing intensified.

"…is nothing more than a massive transmitter," he finished for her, transferring his hands into his coat pockets as they looked on at a large, pale mass of organic matter. No face, no discernible qualities, just a—blob. A blob with a pulsing, red light right at its centre.

"So it _is _the queen, then?" the operative asked.

"If you want to call it that then yeah, I suppose," the Doctor said with a frown as he reached up and pulled at his ear. He walked over to the creature/transmitter, eyeing it closely for a few seconds in silence.

After a moment, Rose came to stand next to him. "So what are you gonna do with it, then?"

He continued to look at the creature, and Rose was startled when an immeasurable amount of sadness suddenly filled his eyes. With a mercurial shift in mood, he abruptly spun around, away from her, cursing under his breath as he paced around the room and pulled at his hair. "No, no, _no!_" he said through gritted teeth as he halted his pacing just as rapidly by coming to a standstill in front of the creature again.

"Doctor?" she asked him, timidly touching his hand when he continued to look at the thing, his jaw clenching and unclenching in quick succession.

"This isn't just the main transmitter for this gang," he said finally, "It's the main transmitter for _all _of them. It's the _last _transmitter."

Rose looked at him blankly. "What does that mean?"

When he looked up at her, a thrill ran through her as she detected the darkness that lay there. What scared her even more was the fact that he had seemingly blocked off her connection to his emotions completely through the link. She had no idea what kind of turmoil he was hiding from her.

"It means—" the darkness faded as quickly as it had appeared, only to be replaced by exhaustion. In front of her eyes, the Doctor instantly became _old_. So very old and so very tired.

"It means," he said, releasing a resigned sigh, "That I'll have to make the choice. Again."

She came to the realisation quickly after that. "They're the last ones."

He nodded. "The final colony."

She looked at him with an unfathomable amount of sympathy. "And you have to end them."

"It never should have come to this," he said softly, turning back to the thing before she could make out the flash of emotion in his eyes. He placed his hands on the creature. "And this is my job," he murmured, so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

The Doctor entered the transmitter mind then, searching for the point where he would be able to trigger its shutdown. All the while, he felt the weight of his actions on his shoulders. Yet another race that he would have had the dishonour of destroying. Another genocide on his hands. How much bloodshed would he have to cause in his long life before it stopped? How far past the point of salvation had he gone by now? How much farther would this new crime push him?

How tainted would Rose one day be because of him?

As if on cue, he was suddenly surrounded by a warm, golden presence. Outside, he felt a small hand on his.

_I'm here_, she said into his mind simply.

_You don't have to do this, _he answered.

_Exactly_, she said, _but here I am. I'll __always __be here._

He remained in awe of her for a moment, before setting about shutting the mind down with a _thank you_ sent her way. As the Doctor quickly and painlessly shut down the transmitter and, in extension, the minds of every Vespultarian past the point of redemption, Rose held fast as the guilt crashed down on him. The dark emotion was encompassing, and much as he tried to conceal most of it behind the barrier between their minds, some of it still slipped through. Some of which, to his astonishment, Rose immediately carried.

He opened his eyes slowly, seeing as the red light inside of the creature pulsed one last time before dimming completely.

"It's done," he said in a hollow voice, and the two words rang with a droning finality in his ears.

He looked down to see Rose standing close beside him, grasping at his hand and tears glistening in her eyes. Before he could ask her whether she was alright, she'd moved forwards and wrapped her arms tightly around him.


	45. Episode 3 Part 14

The small street that the Doctor and Rose exited the house onto was packed. Rose looked at her surroundings, taking in at least three Humvees, what looked to be more than a hundred Torchwood operatives and all manner of strange equipment stations set up around her—and that was only in her immediate vicinity.

"They really brought in the entire cavalry, didn't they?" she murmured.

The Doctor looked straight ahead of him, his entire body radiating tension. He gripped Rose's hand tightly, and she knew that he was feeling more than a little on edge at their clearly outnumbered state. If some idiot tried to apprehend one of them now…

"Oi! You there!"

Just such an idiot approached them at that moment.

The Doctor steeled himself for a fight as he watched the decorated operative coming towards them, anger in his eyes. As he neared, however, the Doctor's resolve wavered slightly when he realised that his presence was being flatly ignored. The man only appeared to have eyes for Rose.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you step foot near my squads, Smith," he said, stepping up close to her, "I read your file; Marion Smith, Torchwood operative extraordinaire, and the trail of bodies in her wake. Should've known it would be a blood bath the moment you got involved."

The Doctor frowned, pulling Rose closer to his side. "She's not a Torchwood operative," he said decisively, "And her name's Rose Tyler, not Marion Smith. There aren't any files on her."

The Commander focused his attention on him then, staring him down for a moment before leaning in closer to the Time Lord. "Don't think I don't know who she really is, Doctor," he said quietly, "You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. _Rose Tyler_—" he said the name with disdain,"—is Marion Smith, clear as day. And something else, I've already rang Mister Saxon about it, too. He seems to find the information _very _interesting."

The Doctor bristled, ready to defend Rose's honour, when he felt her hand squeeze his bracingly. She let go, taking a step forward so that she was standing nose-to-nose with the obnoxious soldier.

"Maybe I am Marion Smith and maybe I'm not," she told him levelly, "Either way, the fact remains that I never told you to run in there with guns blazing. If you people would have just stopped to _think _for one minute of a plan that didn't involve shooting first and asking questions later, you would've been able to spare at least half of the lives you lost back there!"

Commander Jenkins smirked. "And there's that Marion Smith superiority they keep talking about, too. You know—" a spark of interest flared in his eye, and for some reason it caused an ominous thrill to run up her spine, "rumour has it that your tendency to laud it over everyone isn't just naïve arrogance. That you're older than you look." He paused, "That you're just as alien as the things we kill."

Rose was about to reply by telling the Commander exactly where he could stick _that_ specific statement, when she felt herself being protectively pulled back by the arm again. She suppressed the urge to heave a great sigh when the Doctor pulled her slightly behind him.

"That's enough," he told the Commander flatly.

"Never knew you to be one to have your battles fought for you, though," Jenkins continued on, still completely ignoring the Doctor and soliciting a very-quickly-becoming furious glare from the Time Lord. "Then again," the Commander said thoughtfully, and this time his eyes fell to the hand that the Doctor had securely wrapped around Rose's arm, "I never knew the two of you were quite so—close, either."

The Commander's eyes, too curious, too interested, flicked between the two of them as the Doctor and Rose stared on in tense silence. She felt as the Doctor's grip tightened on her arm ever so slightly, hearing his contemplations of escape running through his mind quickly.

The Commander stood for two seconds longer as his eyes narrowed, then turned around and walked off without any more words in the way of threatening or greeting.

The Doctor and Rose shared a look, eyes stretched wide and eyebrows raised.

"What was all that about?" he asked her.

She shook her head, still eyeing the soldier's retreating form. "I have no idea."

His gaze drifted to her face. "Marion Smith?" he inquired, his lips twitching.

Her eyes slid sideways, meeting his. A corner of her mouth quirked up in response. "I know."

Smile still in place, Rose looked out across the throngs of Torchwood employees again, grateful that they'd actually gotten out of another scrape unscathed. The smile turned to a grimace, though, as she spotted a specific station with a group of white-coated technicians bustling around a large switchboard with chords quite obviously connected to the house at their back. She opened her mouth to deliver a remark on Torchwood's incessant need to destroy, when something altogether more distressing caught her eye.

Her blood ran cold.

"Shareen," she gasped, sprinting over to the sight that lay on the far side of the street.

Jimmy was sitting on the cold pavement, obscured by the amount of people busying themselves with a vast array of actions around him. In the ever-moving sea of activity, he was a rare point of stillness.

Reaching him, Rose sucked in a sharp breath. In his arms, he cradled a petite brunette. Shareen. Her best friend. Pale as death. In fact, Rose would have thought her dead if it weren't for the feather light rise and fall of her chest.

She stood, watching in silence as Jimmy rocked her and spoke to her in a soft, murmuring voice, stroking a hand over her cheek. She saw the hopelessness in Jimmy's eyes; saw the intense sorrow and love for her friend that lay there.

The sight broke her heart.

Rose crouched down in front of them, taking one of Shareen's ice cold hands in her own.

"When I got out, she was the only one who would talk to me," Jimmy said, and Rose looked up to see him staring down at their linked hands. He gave a weak laugh. "Gave me the telling off of my life for leaving you." He shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from Shareen's face, "But after, we got to talking, and I realised that I'd never actually taken the time to get to know her, you know? To—to see how beautiful and funny and clever and just—how _good _she was. Too good for me."

Rose looked at him sadly. "Jimmy—"

"The Doctor gave her four hours last time I spoke to him," he told her, his voice sounding small and scared like a child's. He sniffed, looking down at Shareen and softly trailing a hand from her forehead to her jawline. "I don't know how long ago that was, though. I—I don't know how much time she still has. I'm—" his voice broke, his eyes closing in a moment of the most earnest pain Rose had ever seen him in. He bowed his head and touched his forehead to hers.

"I'm sorry, Ree," he said softly.

Rose felt the brush of material against her back and lifted her tear-filled eyes to find the Doctor standing behind her. He was looking down at Shareen and Jimmy with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You can help her, right Doctor?" Rose asked him softly, hearing the tinge of desperation so clear in her own voice, "You can save her?"

The unreadable expression still remained in place as he lowered himself down on his haunches beside Rose. He didn't look at her even once, though. No, his eyes were firmly planted on Jimmy Stone's face, scrutinising him closely.

"I'm not doing this for you," he said finally as his hand lifted and reached deep inside his coat pocket. He pulled out a tiny, silver vial and nodded at Shareen, "I'm doing this because Shareen Costello deserves a good life. Do you get that, Jimmy Stone?"

Jimmy's eyes widened as he looked at the small vial as though it were his saving grace. Which it was, in a way. He gave a slow nod at the Doctor's question before swallowing and holding out his hand for the small bottle. Still eyeing him sternly, the Doctor placed it in his hand.

Wasting no time, Jimmy pulled the stopper from the vial and lifted it to Shareen's lips.

"Slowly," the Doctor cautioned.

He nodded, tilting the contents into her mouth, watching as she steadily swallowed the fluid that would save her life. All the while, Rose looked on with bated breath, her hand finding the Doctor's and clutching it tightly.

They all continued to survey the scene as, at a snail's pace, the colour started to return to Shareen's cheeks. After a long while, her eyelids twitched and fluttered, her face regaining its inherent vibrancy. Her eyes opened slowly, revealing bright emerald.

"Jimmy?" she croaked, and Rose's breath of relief left her in a whoosh.

"I'm here," Jimmy murmured hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. He hugged her to his chest tightly, tears that Rose knew he would deny later in his eyes, "God, Ree, I'm here."

Shareen sat up a little, though Jimmy still kept his arms wound tightly around her, as she caught sight of Rose and the Doctor sitting across from her. "Rose?" she said confusedly, and Rose gave her a reassuring smile and her hand a squeeze.

"Hi there, love," Rose greeted through her own relieved tears.

Shareen's eyes fell to the Doctor, and a small smile appeared on her lips. "You came through," she said wondrously.

The Doctor returned the smile softly. "Told you I would."

She arched an eyebrow. "First you buy me chips, and then you save my life? You're starting to make me look bad, you know."

Rose laughed. "Don't worry, you putting up with his rudeness more than evens you out."

The Doctor looked at her with a wounded expression. "Oi!"

She grinned at him before resting her head against his shoulder, humming happily. The Doctor's face softened at the gesture and quickly, almost too abruptly for Rose to be sure that it had really happened, he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I think," Jimmy said, loosening his arms around Shareen slightly, "That I should do this before anything else bad happens."

Shareen looked at him once again, her brow furrowing quizzically. "Do what?"

Jimmy's eyes glinted mischievously as he reached into his back pocket, and Rose bit her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot at the exchange. As he procured the small, wooden box, Shareen's eyes widened instantly at the sight of it.

"Shareen Costello," Jimmy started softly, giving her a look that could only be described as one of complete adoration, "I'm an ex-drug dealer from the East End who works for a secret alien organisation. I love you more than is probably healthy for one person to love someone else, and by some miracle, I think that you just might love me back." He popped open the box to showcase the delicate engagement ring that lay inside, "Would you please say yes to marrying me?"

Shareen looked down at the ring, then up at Jimmy again. Then down at the ring again. She did this several times, and each time she did, the shadow of doubt in Jimmy's eyes became a little clearer.

He pulled back slightly after her fifth alternation. "That's—that's alright," Jimmy said, clearly trying his best to conceal the heartbreak in his voice, "I mean, if you don't want—"

"I'm pregnant!" Shareen blurted out, and promptly thereafter slapped her hands over her mouth in shock at her own words.

"_What?!_" Rose exclaimed from the side, but the young couple completely ignored her.

All the colour had drained from Jimmy's face and he was staring at her blankly.

"Jimmy?" Shareen asked urgently.

"That's—" he trailed off, looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He continued to stare at her in silence for a long while.

"Jimmy?" she inquired again, this time tugging on his arm, "Jimmy, please say something."

His eyes proceeded to fix on her more certainly, and on his lips suddenly became known a full-blown grin. "That's the best news I've ever heard."

An awed little smile manifested on her face. "Really?" she asked timidly.

He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly before pulling back the slightest inch to look her in the eye. "You kidding?"

He turned to Rose and the Doctor proudly, "We're having a baby!"

…

Shareen took in her surroundings of the TARDIS med bay with wide eyes as the Doctor went about scanning her and the baby. She held Jimmy's hand in a vice-like grip all the while, her silver engagement ring and the tiny diamond it held sparkling whenever the light hit her hand just so.

"Not exactly the camper van I had in mind," she told Rose who was sitting across from her and grinning ear-to-ear.

"Yeah, she really is something, isn't she?" Rose said, throwing a fond glance at the ceiling and feeling the TARDIS give her mind a loving nudge in return.

"How do you go about navigating the place, though?" Shareen inquired, "It's massive!"

"Oh well, I suppose you just—do," Rose said with a shrug, "Never gotten lost myself. Although," she gave a tongue-twixt-teeth smile as she glanced over at the Doctor where he was busying himself with all kinds of scanners and monitors. She leaned in closer so that he wouldn't hear her, "He tends to get lost from time to time. Especially when the TARDIS gets angry at him for banging her about too much."

Shareen raised her eyebrows. "The spaceship gets angry?"

"Right!" the Doctor made his way back over to them, "What did I tell you Ms.-Costello-soon-to-be-Mrs.-Stone—or in the event that you want to hyphenate your last name, I suppose it could Mrs. Costello-Stone or Mrs. Stone-Costello. _Or _if you decide to keep your maiden name—"

"Doctor," Rose pulled him back to the subject at hand.

"Rambling again. Sorry," he said, throwing a sheepish grin Rose's way, "As I was saying, everything seems to be in order for the both of you. Oh, except you're not two weeks along. Closer to six, I should say. Could already hear the baby's heart beating soundly and strongly on the scanner."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought you could only hear that later?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, with the stuff your hospitals carry? Most certainly only later. But the TARDIS hardly follows NHS standards."

Shareen looked over at the monitors towards the back of the room uncertainly before settling her gaze back on the Doctor. "Could—could I hear it?"

He grinned at her. "It would be my pleasure."

Shareen was still listening to the tiny heartbeat with tears in her eyes ten minutes later. Beside her, Jimmy was doing much of the same. The light fluttering of life that could be so clearly heard over the scanner caused Rose nothing short of wonderment, equally the fact that her best friend was going to be a mother at all, but a more deep-seated issue had steadily been eating away at her since their escape from danger.

She tapped Jimmy on the shoulder lightly.

"Can I talk to you outside for a minute?" she asked him.

The Doctor and Shareen both threw her asking glances as she started to lead Jimmy from the room, but she simply shook her head at them. This really wasn't something that she could share with them at the moment.

"We'll be back in a jiff," she told them before exiting the med bay.

She walked all the way to the console room and out the TARDIS doors, checking every so often that Jimmy was still following her. When they exited into the cool night that reigned on the Powell Estate, Rose finally turned around to face Jimmy, satisfied that the Doctor was sufficiently out of earshot.

Jimmy took one look at her face before heaving a sigh. "You're about to ruin my mood, aren't you?"

She frowned at him. "What?"

He gestured towards her face. "That look. That's the I've-done-something-bad look. You gave me that look just before you told me that you'd dropped out of school."

She stared at him mutely.

"What?" he inquired, stuffing his hands into his denim pockets and leaning against the TARDIS, "I know you, Rosie. It may have been years since the last time I saw you, but that doesn't change the fact that I know who you are."

She shook her head, returning to her aimed point of discussion. "I need to tell you something, but you have to promise me that it'll stay between us. _Promise_, Jim."

He eyed her warily. "Does it involve a body?"

"Be serious, Jimmy."

"It's a perfectly valid question! You running about with that Doctor of yours, there's no telling what the two of you get up to."

She took a deep breath. "No, there's no body. It's about the hole in reality."

Apparently this answer caught him unexpectedly, because the next moment his expression had turned confused. He raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

She looked at him evenly. "The hole isn't the Doctor's fault—it's mine."

Both eyebrows raised at that. Yet another loop he'd been thrown for. "What?" he asked in consternation, "How's that even possible?"

"It's a—long story," Rose breathed, looking out into the night, seeing images of her own death playing out in her mind. It was a disconcerting thing; watching yourself die. Especially from the point of view of someone who—cared about you.

She met Jimmy's eyes again, "The point is that I need you to monitor it for me. Tell me if anything about it changes, if things start getting pulled in, if—" she swallowed heavily, "if things around it start unravelling."

"Rose," he said quietly, detecting her distress, "Exactly how much trouble are you in?"

She felt a lump rise in her throat and forcefully pushed it down before answering.

"I dunno," she told him just as quietly, "Possibly a lot."

He nodded curtly. "Alright. I'll keep you posted."

Rose abruptly felt a surge of gratefulness aimed at Jimmy Stone. It was so strange, she mused; just a day ago she would've called him the scum of the earth if anyone had asked. Now she was trusting him to be her confidante.

"Thank you, Jimmy," she told him earnestly.

Jimmy gave her a slight smirk, but any humour in it was coloured with an underlying worry. He pushed off the TARDIS and opened the door for her. "Come on," he said, "I think we both deserve to go home after today."


	46. Episode 3 Part 15

**Author's note: Hey guys! OMG, that's another episode finished! Never thought I had it in me to finish this filler… anyway, just wanted to say thank you for the CRAZY AMAZY response I've been receiving for this story! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it so far, and equally glad that I still have you stumped as to what's going to happen next ;)**

**This is going to be a thoroughly talky chapter. It's (finally) time for some owning up…**

…

The TARDIS doors closed with the pleasant image of Jimmy and Shareen waving them off with huge smiles on their faces, the fact that they were together, futures bright, practically radiating from them.

Turning back to face the console room as the ship dematerialised (Rose idly noticed that they once again hadn't greeted her mum, an oversight that neither she nor the Doctor had a particular interest in correcting at the moment), the sight left Rose feeling inherently happy. Adventures didn't always have to end in doom and gloom.

Then she remembered the hole that they were leaving the people of her home world with while the Doctor piloted them off to new horizons and the smile swiftly slipped from her face. Jimmy had told her that he would inform her if anything happened to it, if it started to show any signs of influence over its external environment, but what would happen then? What exactly would Rose do if he _did_ call with some horrible account of reality's deterioration?

How was she going to keep this from the Doctor?

She walked up the ramp and stood silently, watching as the Doctor bounced around the console board and sent his ship tumbling into the Vortex.

Of course, she didn't miss the irony of her current predicament. They'd just gotten off this rollercoaster of secrets when the Doctor had finally admitted to what he'd done, they'd shared themselves with one another in every way, bound themselves to each other for the closest thing one could get to an eternity. Rose had been granted a level of intimacy with the Time Lord that few if any had ever had with him, and now she was the one keeping secrets from him.

She couldn't help but feel like she was utterly betraying him through withholding this information. It was, after all, information that not only threatened her personal safety, but that of reality as whole.

"I know."

She looked up, startled, at the sound of his voice.

Oh god, her next thought was, had he been reading her mind?

But, looking at a face before her that held no anger or hurt, only understanding and some degree of resignation, she quickly deduced that he'd read her emotions wrongly. He'd halted his manic piloting and was now leaning against the console with his hands buried in his pockets, looking at her with an expression containing equal parts expectance and fright.

Rose felt as her face settled in the same mask, knowing what had arrived. The time to talk was now.

Somehow, around them, reigned the unspoken challenge of who would be the first to speak next. Who would be the first to break their carefully formulated programme of avoidance and acceptance, leading them down this new and frightful path of complete openness with one another?

Once again, Rose thought, the irony was stifling.

The stalemate held for just about a second longer than she could take.

"Tea?" she broke the silence.

The Doctor's flapping jaw and widened eyes showcased his taken-aback state at her unexpected question. He floundered for a moment, casting her an odd look, before heaving a tiny sigh.

"Alright," he agreed with a shrug.

She gave a stiff nod and turned from him, hurrying down the hall to the kitchen. In her mind, she felt the TARDIS reprimanding her lightly.

_I can't tell him! _Rose protested.

_These secrets are dangerous! _The TARDIS answered back, her presence flaring angrily.

Rose gave a frustrated huff, entering the kitchen and immediately setting to work procuring mugs and teabags. Behind her, she heard the scrape of a chair as the Doctor seated himself at the kitchen table. She felt his eyes burning twin holes into her back.

She boiled the kettle quickly, steeping the tea and heaping in her two and the Doctor's four sugars. Then she turned, pretending that she hadn't caught the intensity of his gaze as he averted his eyes slightly, and offered him his cup mutely. He accepted with a small smile of thanks and watched her take her seat, the intensity siphoning back into his gaze.

She took a sip of the liquid, not caring that it scalded her tongue, while eyeing him over the rim of her mug.

He set his mug down, arching an eyebrow at her. "This is silly, Rose."

Rose sighed, realising that he was right. Setting her mug down too, she felt the tension between them recede slightly. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table, looking down at her fingers as they twined and untwined. They were talking now, and though everything couldn't be talked about, there was one subject on her mind in particular that needed to be.

"There's something—not right about me," she said quietly. Not a question, a statement. She dared the Doctor to deny it.

"Yes," he answered, and she was grateful for his refraining from sugar-coating the answer. Cold, hard fact made it easier to accept. No less painful, though.

She lifted her eyes, meeting his soft, dark brown. "When the TARDIS started talking to me," she told him, "She told me that I was powerful. More than someone like me should be. She told me that I had something called artron energy in my system, and that the amount of it should've killed me by now. But it hasn't. She told me that it's actually one of the things keeping me alive." She paused for just a second, levelling him with a wary gaze, "Like a Time Lord."

He shook his head. "You're not," he said with surety, reaching a hand out and placing it on both of hers, "Trust me, I'd know if you were. Even if—there are methods by which Time Lords can disguise themselves as humans, forget even their own identities, but I would still know." He looked down at their hands, "I'm the last one, and that's the end of it."

"But you knew, then? About me?" It was impossible for her to keep the small note of accusation from her voice.

Again, he didn't try to deny it. "Yes," he said, "Only found out recently, though. When the Count saw your power. When you—"

"When I burned," she realised. She frowned at him, "You told me I healed because of the vampire cells in my system."

"It was a possibility," he said with a slightly infuriating shrug.

"But you knew that it wasn't the reason from the start," she pushed, "You knew the Count wasn't just some sociopath bent on destruction. He was testing me."

The Doctor let go of her hands, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. "He _was _a sociopath, Rose. He took one look at the memory I had of you coming back for me on the Game Station and decided that you were some kind of rare anomaly that he had to have. Especially when he figured out that you were strong enough to retain a telepathic link over expanses in time itself—"

"Hold on," her eyes widened, "You mean he was able to do that 'cause _I _was the strong one? He was the telepathic one, not me!"

The Doctor nodded solemnly. "Dracula was a very strong telepath, it's true, but not _that_ strong. To be able to form a link as strong as the one he had with you over such an expanse takes—just—a _phenomenal _amount of power."

"Phenomenal…" she murmured. With a sense of dread, she realised what he was getting at. "As in, 'heart of TARDIS' phenomenal?"

He nodded again. "Bingo."

She stared at him in shock for a moment. In the back of her mind, echoed a single thought; something that had taken to giving her strength during moments in which the fear would threaten to overwhelm her. She'd always thought of it as just a mantra of sorts. Something to keep her grounded, remind her where she had been, what she had overcome. Perhaps it was something much more than that.

You are the Bad Wolf.

What did that even mean, though? What _was_ Bad Wolf? Surely it couldn't just be that she'd retained the energy from the heart of the TARDIS after all. She was human, for god's sake! How would that even be possible?! This wasn't meant to be able to happen.

Another thought struck her then, this one accompanied with a sense of horror.

_This wasn't meant to be able to happen._

What was it that the Daleks had called her? A hazy memory, one of many tinged in gold and too disrupted by a veil of confusion to make any sort of sense, came to mind. A harsh, rasping voice crying out in sight of her.

Abomination, it had said.

Her existence was causing reality to rip itself apart. And for some reason, reality didn't seem to be recovering from it. The wound was simply too deep to heal. Was it because she hadn't been meant to be saved?

Had her death been an act of self preservation on the universe's part?

"Rose," she felt a hand on hers again, and when she looked up, it was into the eyes that had come to hold sanctuary for her. Even if it hadn't been for the comfort his mind was now enveloping hers in, she would have still been exponentially more calmed by his mere presence. He gave her hand a tight, sure squeeze. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Do you understand?"

There it was again. That promise. Now that they were bound to each other in such a profound way, it carried even more gravity. Became even more terrifying.

Because if it came to deciding between the Doctor or the universe, she knew what her choice would be. If it came to deciding between her or the Doctor's lives, there would be no choice.

She stood, watching as the Doctor eyed her carefully. She moved over to where he was still seated. She lowered herself onto his lap, never breaking the eye contact that, in itself, seemed to contain more intimacy than she had ever experienced with anyone else. She ran a hand through his hair softly, feeling his body relax underneath her touch. Then she leaned in and kissed him deeply. He responded in kind, kissing her back with an impossible amount of tenderness while running his hands down her sides, allowing them to find rest on her hips.

She pulled back after a few moments, looking him squarely in the eye as her hands framed his face.

"Me, too," she replied seriously.

He searched her face, and Rose could see that her answer worried him deeply. Could feel it, too. Well, tough. It was the truth. If he was going to swear that he would protect her to the death, she would do the same.

She watched as his eyes suddenly moved away, fixed themselves on a point over her shoulder. She felt as his body tensed back into its apparent naturally tight, coiled state. "I've ruined your chance at a human life," he said quietly, and Rose knew that the admission had been weighing on his shoulders for a very long time. Longer than just today.

"Yes," she said, and watched as his eyes returned to her in a moment of surprise. Pain flickered across his features and his mind.

His eyes were just about to move away again, when she caught his chin and gently guided his gaze back to her. "You've completely ruined my chance at a human life," she told him. Then a smile lit her face, "'Cause you've given me the chance at a fantastic one."

A familiar awe settled on his face. He quickly masked it with an equally familiar guise of weariness, though. "Rose," he shook his head, "Even if you think that now, it doesn't ascertain that you'll feel that way in the future. 'Cause time, it's a funny old thing. Everyone always wants more of it, but no one actually realises that too much just makes you tired. Makes you resentful."

The evident resignation in his voice was accompanied by a sorrowful certainty that broke Rose's heart. His hands moved to grip hers tightly, and abruptly Rose was reminded of when he'd told her about feeling the spin of the Earth. Maybe he needed a hand to hold to still the constant movement around him, to centre himself. Perhaps that was why he needed her. Perhaps that was what she could offer him in return for forever.

"Maybe you don't feel it now," he continued, "maybe you won't feel it for another fifty, sixty or a hundred years, but someday—someday you'll look at me, and you'll realise that I never deserved to love you."

And she froze.

Had he just—?

He'd just said—

She only now realised the truth.

The word, the "l" one, had not just entered a realm of taboo for her as she'd thought earlier today. That was too kind. No, the word, certainly from the Doctor's lips, had become legend. A myth. A single-syllabled utterance that was never meant to be conveyed through speech. That, when spoken, became immediately blasphemous as it fell from the tongue. Was almost blasphemy to even think of too much.

That was what she'd thought, at least.

Now, as it was spoken and befell her ears, she realised that the word, the "l" one, was in actuality completely insignificant. So tiny. Hearing it spoken by the man that she loved, said out loud in a way only he could say it, she realised that she'd always known. In all her moments of doubt and pain and confusion—deep down, fundamentally, she'd known. As if the knowledge had been embedded in her very being.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, taking her silence as fact that he'd finally convinced her of the probability of his fears.

"Doctor," she called, prompting him to look back up at him with the newfound strength in her voice. She gave him a smile, "Taking into account how stubborn I am, do you really think I'm ever leaving?" Her voice took on a gentler tone, "How many times do I have to tell you that you're stuck with me?"

He didn't return the smile. "Yes, but you say that now—"

She sighed, looking at him with her signature exasperation that even managed to solicit a slight twitch of his lips. "Alright," she said, surveying him with a calculating eye, "How about we make a deal?"

At this his mouth did quirk up into a smirk, arching an eyebrow. "And what deal would that be?"

"We stop worrying about the future. We take this one day at a time."

He looked at her sceptically. "That's not a very Time Lord thing to do, you know; ignoring the future."

"So maybe it'll be a nice change of pace for you," Rose said with a grin and a waggle of her eyebrows, "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

He shifted back in his chair slightly, only enough to afford him the tiniest distance from which to study her face. And study it he did. For a very long while.

Finally, oh so slowly, he returned the grin.

"Rose Tyler, we have a deal."


	47. Episode 4 Part 1

**Episode 4: Adventures in accidental babysitting**

As time passed, the Doctor and Rose really did manage to stick to their deal. They worked on it systematically, took every day as it came and dealt with its varying good and bad aspects accordingly. Life went by, slowly while observed, but far more rapidly in hindsight. The days were marked off.

Then the weeks.

Then the months.

Sometimes they fought, sometimes they ran, sometimes they made love.

The Doctor would have thought, what with his mind having been such an empty place for such a long time, that this new facet of his and Rose's life together would come as somewhat of an adjustment to him. That sharing so much of himself with another would cause him all the makings of the greatest discomfort.

But it didn't. It wasn't.

Oh, it had been tough in the beginning. Of course it had been. Being intimate with Rose—both mentally and physically—had once upon a time been the one thing he'd obstinately held himself back from doing. Only just barely even then, but there it was all the same. And, to understate, old habits had died hard.

Rose had coaxed him out in the end, had been infinitely more patient with him than she had any right to be, and, little by little, the carefully constructed barriers between them had fallen away. The hero façade that he so adamantly upheld to the world had been broken down, had given way to the broken, guilt-ridden man that lay underneath in front of her, and she'd faced him down fearlessly. Had dared to care for him. Maybe even to love him.

The fears were still there. These days they usually broke during the TARDIS's quiet evening cycles, when Rose was sleeping soundly in the Doctor's arms. When she wasn't in a state to serve as a buffer against the sense of mounting foreboding that gripped the Doctor's hearts, telling him that this couldn't possibly last. A nagging little voice in the back of his mind ever persisted, whispering of something on their horizon. Something big.

True, the whole process was a difficult one, and the winding road of forever that still stretched before them wouldn't be without its bumps, but perhaps the most difficult task of all had been for the Doctor to admit to himself what he was really feeling.

It was a sensation that he hadn't experienced in a very, very long time. It certainly wasn't something that he'd thought himself capable of feeling again in this day and age.

Because, impossible as it seemed, the Doctor found himself undeniably, rapturously happy.

When the TARDIS landed in modern-day London two and a half months after it had last been sighted, six months had already blown past for the Doctor and Rose. It had been six months of intense exploration in more ways than one, and the period of time had seen the two time travellers' relationship altered beyond recognition in some respects, while still remaining exactly the same in all the ways that mattered.

…

Shareen grinned broadly at Rose from her seated spot in their regular chippy. She was absently playing with the chips in her plate, stacking them atop each other in a little chip-tower, but making no move towards eating anything.

Finally, Rose couldn't take the silence any longer. She dropped the chip, halfway to her mouth, in her hand back in its plate. "What?" she asked her friend with a raised eyebrow.

Shareen shook her head, smile holding. "S'just—you seem so happy," she told Rose contentedly. Her smile became the slightest bit infused with dry amusement (an expression, Rose noted, she'd since picked up from being around Jimmy so much). "You're positively glowing."

Rose snorted. "Look who's talking," she replied, though she couldn't deny that Shareen was absolutely dead on about her happiness.

She'd never had a time in her life when she felt quite as—_whole _as she'd felt in the past few months. Her near-constant giddiness would have almost been cause for concern had it not been such a welcome contrast to what she and the Doctor had experienced previously. And being around Shareen, belly round and healthy and her entire manner advertising her own contentedness with her life, was only serving to add to the joy.

Shareen chuckled, resting one hand on her belly and looking down at where it rested with a soft smile. "Reckon we deserve it though, don't you think?" she said, returning her gaze to Rose, "After everything we've been through."

Rose hummed in agreement, popping the chip she'd abandoned earlier into her mouth. It was decidedly true, she thought; she and Shareen had been through a hell of a lot to get to the point where they were now. They'd both worked their arses off, in fact. They'd more than paid their dues to achieve happiness.

Right?

The errant thought caused Rose's mind to drift unwittingly to the only thing that had the ability to cast a shadow over the joy she felt most often these days. The hole. Of course, it was still where she'd left it; Jimmy had assured her of the fact. On the off chances that she'd managed to slip away from the Doctor for a few minutes, she'd called him a few times to inquire about the rip in reality that she'd caused. Each time she'd called, the answer had been exactly the same: nothing new to report, but he'd let her know if anything worth mentioning happened.

"Are you talking to him now?"

"Huh?" Rose looked up, startled from her thoughts, to find Shareen studying her speculatively.

"You got that glazed look in your eye," she explained, "Like when you're having a chat in your head with the Doctor." She gave another laugh, "Still having a bit of trouble wrapping _my _head around that one, by the way."

Rose returned a smile, albeit half-heartedly. _That_ specific tidbit of information had been divulged to Shareen entirely by accident. When they'd visited the last time—a month ago for Shareen, four months ago for Rose—she'd walked in on the two of them having half of a conversation telepathically and half verbally. It had been pretty difficult to come up with a sufficient explanation as to why the Doctor could suddenly read Rose's thoughts and vice versa, and so Rose had resolved just to come out with the honest-to-god truth.

Sufficed to say, Shareen hadn't believed her in the slightest at first.

Now, however, she'd fairly and quite level-headedly accepted her and the Doctor's link. She'd most likely told Jimmy about it too by now, though the man in question had never since given an indication of being in the know about it.

It made Rose a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. It wasn't as though she didn't trust her friends to keep the information close to their chests. She knew that Jimmy and Shareen would never do anything that would compromise her or the Doctor. She just felt slightly— uneasy about letting people in on something that was so personal to her and the Doctor.

"Nah," she answered Shareen's question lightly, "No need when we'll be seeing each other in a bit anyway."

"Still," she remarked, finally picking a chip from off the top of her food construction and putting it in her mouth, "Wouldn't mind having something like that with Jimmy. Bet you two save a small fortune on phone bills."

Rose grinned her trademark tongue-touched grin. "Suppose we do, yeah. Although," she cast an eye down to the shopping bags at their feet, "I reckon we should keep the boys in the dark on _exactly _how much money we spent today as long as possible."

"But look!" Shareen rummaged in the bag closest to her, eventually pulling out a tiny babygro with the words "Daddy's little angel" stamped on top, "How can anyone get angry at this?" She put the small garment back, smiling cheekily. "And if all else fails, I can always just blame our spending spree on the acts of a mad pregnant lady."

Rose laughed at her friend. "Oh, how I look forward to the days where I can blame everything I do on pregnancy brain."

The statement had seemed innocent enough upon its formation in her mind, but as it slipped from her tongue and she realised the implication of what she'd just said, her eyebrows shot up at the same moment Shareen's did.

"You reckon you'll do something like this then, one day?" her friend asked her quietly, gesturing towards her belly. Then, even quieter, "Is—is it even possible?"

Rose's hand came up, habitually fiddling with her hoop earring. This conversation had suddenly headed down a decidedly awkward path for her. Especially since this particular turn of subject wasn't something she brought herself to think on often.

Nope. Certainly not.

"I—" she trailed off hollowly for a second, warranting a sympathetic look from Shareen, "No, I mean— it's not as though— I don't expect—"

"Rose, babe."

Rose looked up from the spot on her hands where her gaze had fallen when her friend's hand came to rest there. "It's not as though I'm suddenly looking to live in a house with a white picket fence and have a bunch of babies or anything," she was quick to reprieve, "I mean, I _love _travelling around with the Doctor, saving people and worlds and—and—"

"Rose," Shareen reiterated, this time more firmly.

"Yeah?" Rose replied, her voice sounding unusually small and young to her ears.

It really was different seeing Shareen like this, Rose mused. Not just in the sense that her best friend had so abruptly become both an expecting mother and a bride-to-be in the world's eyes, but also in the fact that she'd taken these roles, so promptly thrust upon her, in such stride. In the short while in which Shareen's life had been turned on its head, she'd come into her own. She'd grown up in ways that filled Rose with a sense of the utmost pride.

"It's only natural for you to be thinking about things like that," Shareen assured her gently, "Even if you don't want that now, chances are that you will someday."

"No, I don't think so," Rose said, feeling as warmth tinged her cheeks, "I mean, the Doctor doesn't even _do _that."

"Oh," it was Shareen's turn to blush. She retracted her hand with a slight widening of the eyes, "Well, since he's alien I—um—I suppose I should've assumed that not _everything _down there is _quite _the same—"

"Oh my god, no!" Rose dissolved into a fit of giggles at the sight of the embarrassed expression on Shareen's face and, as her friend promptly joined in on the laughter, all previous awkwardness melted away in brilliant fashion.

"No, it's pretty much the same equipment," Rose said when the laughter subsided, "And we've talked about the possibility of—_that__—_happening, but apparently humans and Time Lords have such a low compatibility rate that there'd only be about a one-in-a-billion chance of it." She averted her eyes slightly, continuing on in softer tones, "And even if it _was _possible, the Doctor would never want it, anyway."

"Well, now I know you're being mad," Shareen told her with surety. She smiled at her friend, "If there's one thing I know for certain, it's that that man will love anything that's part-you with all of his heart."

Rose shook her head sadly. "It's not as easy as that though, Ree. It never is with him." She debated whether she should inform her friend of the Doctor's past, knowing that most of the stories he'd allowed himself to share with her weren't hers to reveal to anyone else. She resolved to abbreviate the truth somewhat. "He's been through some tough times in his life and—and I just don't think that part of him exists anymore."

"So you're not even gonna try to warm him up to the idea? That's not very Rose-Tyler of you."

Rose sighed exasperatedly. "Look, Shareen, just leave it, alright? I'm happy _now_. I don't need any promises of future babies from the Doctor, 'cause just being with him is enough. It'll always be enough."

Shareen didn't look convinced. "Yeah, alright," she said.

…

"We're back!" Shareen announced, kicking open the door to her and Jimmy's (previously only her) flat, as her hands were otherwise preoccupied with the ten-odd shopping bags that made up half of her and Rose's shopping plunder.

Jimmy was off the couch and rushing to her side almost immediately. "Ree, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't go carrying half your weight around London in your state?" he admonished, the firm tone of his voice softened slightly by the tender kiss he placed on her cheek before he took the bags off her hands. "Blimey," he cast an eye over the multitude of purchased items, "You and Rose just empty all the baby shops, then?"

"Oh no," Rose answered him as she entered the flat, another twelve bags in hand. She grinned, "Only about half of them."

Jimmy returned the smile, but Rose's attention was swiftly captivated by the sight of a particularly handsome Time Lord striding up to her, sporting a crooked grin that might well have had the ability to turn her insides to goo.

"Hello," Rose greeted him as he leaned down and brushed his lips to hers, simultaneously sending a soft caress her mind's way.

"Hi," the Doctor greeted back when he pulled away, taking half of the load that she was carrying.

Rose cast a glance at Jimmy where he was helping unload various baby-related items a little ways away. "Didn't kill each other then, I see," she whispered mock-covertly.

The Doctor followed her gaze, the corners of his mouth turning down disdainfully. "Just barely," he murmured back.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Just look at him, Doctor," she said, nodding towards where Jimmy and Shareen were currently fawning over a pair of the tiniest socks she'd ever seen, "He loves her, and he's trying. I don't understand why you're still being so hard on him."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed, never leaving Jimmy's face. "There's something about him," he replied thoughtfully, "Something I don't trust." He looked down at Rose, "Not even counting how he treated you when you were together—I feel as though he's hiding something."

Rose prayed that the thrill and accompanying alarm that ran through her at the Doctor's words would be either overlooked or misinterpreted by him. Obviously their current situation made her feel terrible; the Doctor was growing ever more suspicious of Jimmy's deception, while Rose was hiding behind his irrevocable trust in her like a coward. But it was the best that she could do under the circumstances.

At that moment, Jimmy looked up from his and Shareen's unpacking of baby clothing to briefly meet Rose's eyes before turning back to his fiancée. "I think I'm just gonna pop out for a quick fag before we carry on," he told Shareen, loud enough for the Doctor and Rose to hear.

Shareen frowned at him for a fleeting moment, but with a quick flick of her eyes in the Doctor and Rose's direction, she gave a nod. "Alright. Don't take too long."

Jimmy grinned at her and kissed the top of her head. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He got up, his shoulder lightly brushing Rose's in passing as he headed out the door. This gave her the reassurance she needed that she should follow. "I'll join you," she announced, dropping her bags and turning to go after him, when a hand on her arm blocked her way.

"Since when do you smoke?" the Doctor asked with a furrowed brow, although he knew full well that she absolutely didn't.

"I don't," she said slowly, "I just want to get some fresh air."

The Doctor looked at her in that superior, calculating way she hated for a moment. "Alright," he finally complied, "I'll come with you, then. Can't get enough fresh air, I always say." Rose could hear the challenge in his voice.

"No, you don't need to do that," she replied, trying her best to keep her voice light and casual, "You should stay here, keep Shareen some company."

His gaze turned incredulous and, she saw with an oncoming wave of dread, the first makings of suspicion were starting to manifest on his face as his eyes moved from her to Jimmy. He was just about to say something, when Shareen spoke up.

"You know, Doctor, I could really need another set of hands to help with dinner," she supplied.

"See? There you go!" Rose said satisfactorily.

This spurred the Doctor's scrutinising glare to include the petite brunette, too. A tense silence of about three seconds followed, in which Jimmy, Rose and Shareen stole glances at each other when the Doctor's eyes were elsewhere. Eventually, however, he blew out a breath.

"Okay. Yeah," he said, making for the kitchen.

Just before moving away completely, Rose stopped him with a light hand on his coated bicep.

_Don't worry_, she spoke into his mind.

_Not possible_, he replied, gently shrugging his arm out from under her hand and walking away.

Rose shook her head at his retreating back, then turned and went after Jimmy. She found him standing outside, leaning on the balcony railing and looking out across the fifth-storey view of the surrounding Peckham District.

"Never pegged you as the cigarette type," Rose said, leaning on the railing next to him.

In her mind, she suddenly had a flashback of a teenaged her and Jimmy standing in quite the similar position as they'd looked up at the sky. Those times, when they'd been young and innocent and hopeful, when he'd come around to Jackie's flat and they'd stood outside on the balcony talking for hours about the places they would go one day, all the way to the stars— those had been the times that had made her fall in love with him.

In comparison, this was quite a different situation. Rose didn't know whether to feel sad or proud about the people they'd become in the meantime.

"I'm not," Jimmy told her, "I was at one point. Was my way of dealing with prison, then with Torchwood. But I quit when Shareen happened."

She frowned. "But, wait. What's she think you're doing now, then?"

"Talking to you," he replied, as though this were the obvious answer.

"Hold on," her eyes bugged, "Are you saying that Shareen knows?!"

"Now, calm down," Jimmy placated her, "She just knows what she should."

Her consternation held obstinately. "Which is?"

He sighed, turning away from the view to lean his back against the railing, affording him a better view of Rose. "That you're in some trouble your overprotective git of a boyfriend shouldn't know about, and I'm helping you through it."

"He's not my boyfriend," Rose answered reflexively.

The designated relationship status between her and the Doctor continued to be assumed by most during their travels, and maybe the description was all the more apt now, but still Rose didn't like it when people used the word in reference to the Doctor's significance in her life. He wasn't her _boyfriend_. He was more than that.

Jimmy gave an incredulous snort at that. "Yeah, alright. Whatever you say, Rosie."

With some difficulty, Rose pushed down the urge to engage in argument with Jimmy, tamping down her impulsive hot-headedness somewhat. "So, I take it there's news, then?"

A dark shadow passed over his features, spurring an uneasy feeling to form in the pit of her stomach. "What do you wanna know first?"

Best to save the best for last, she supposed.

"Marion Smith," was all she said.

Jimmy nodded knowingly at that. It had been one of the favours that Rose had asked of him during their talks over the phone. As time had passed, Rose had grown increasingly more curious of who her apparent doppelganger and rogue Torchwood operative was. Oh, she was fully aware of the fact that Marion Smith was likely a future version of herself and that any information she might gather on her constituted as meddling with her own timeline.

But really, how much more harm could she do?

"How much should I tell you about her?" Jimmy asked her warily.

Rose attempted to stamp out her burning curiosity, tempering the flames by forcing recurring images of her creating even more holes in reality and the Doctor's resulting resentment of her to run through her mind. "The bare minimum," she answered begrudgingly.

"Well," Jimmy started, "I should probably tell you how bloody hard it was to get my hands on her file for starters. Had to steal Commander Jenkins's security pass and everything. Reckon you owe me big time for that one."

Rose nodded. "Tell you what; next time we all go down to the pub, I'll buy you a pint of anything you want."

His mouth quirked up at one corner. "I'll hold you to that. Anyway, when I _finally _got 'round to locating the file, there weren't any ID photos, so I couldn't see if it was you, but—" the brief smile fell from his face as he trailed off.

"But…?" Rose prompted.

"She seems like bad news, Rose," he told her in a low voice, "I read the accounts of her missions, and all of them go roughly the same route."

"How's that, then?"

"Everybody dies," he told her morbidly. "Every. Single. Time. Her and her partner always end up being the last two standing. And they've been around for a _very _long while."

"Did this partner have a name, then?" she asked, trying to calm herself in the face of this potential future.

Jimmy hummed in affirmative. "Some bloke who calls himself Captain Jack Harkness, apparently."

The name sent a jolt through her entire body.

Oh.

Oh, no.

She was _not _supposed to hear that.

And so, she acted as though she never had. "Any news on the hole?" she asked, effectively dropping the subject and the long-forgotten name right where it stood.

Jimmy studied her face for a second, noting how it had gotten pale as a sheet at the mention of Marion Smith's mysterious partner (who, by the way, had no file or record of general existence). He dropped the matter too, though. Something told him that Rose _really _didn't want it prodded at.

"Yeah," he continued, his voice and gaze turning level, "Rose, something's happened to it."

If at all possible, she turned even paler at this. "What?" was all she could manage as she tried and failed to keep the tremor of fear from her voice.

Jimmy shook his head, still in awe of the occurrence himself. "Only happened a few days ago," he informed her, "They were doing a routine particle engine experiment in the Rift Chamber when—when the hole _spit something out_."

Rose just looked on in ashen silence, and Jimmy took this as his cue to go on.

"It's nothing like I've ever seen before, Rose," he said quietly, thinking on the sheer disturbing nature of the thing that he'd seen appear seemingly out of thin air in front of his eyes, "It's like—like this golden sphere, only—" he shook his head, finding even the thought of it disturbing, "It feels like it's made out of _nothing_. It hurts to even look at it, 'cause when you do, it just feels all kinds of _wrong_."

Rose could sense the horror etched on her face, accompanied by one loud, accusatory thought:

She'd caused this.

Any further discussion, however, was cut short as the door to Shareen's flat opened, slicing a too-bright streak of light through the encroaching darkness Jimmy and Rose's eyes had grown accustomed to. Abruptly after, the Doctor's illuminated form appeared. "Shareen says dinner's almost ready," he told them.

The Doctor's unexpected appearance had left Rose no time in which to school her emotions, and as his attention fell to her and he felt the horror she was frantically trying to suppress, saw the pale state of her complexion, he was at her side in a matter of moments. The Doctor put a protective hand on her arm.

"You okay?"

The question was directed at her, but the glare he now bore was reserved solely for Jimmy Stone.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and this time Rose had no idea whether the question was meant for her or Jimmy.

"I was just telling Rose that old Mrs. Covington passed away while you were travelling," Jimmy lied easily, "I knew how Rose liked to have tea with her every other afternoon while she was still living on the Estate, so I thought she ought to know."

The Doctor looked down at Rose dubiously. "That true?"

She finally managed to get a grip on herself. "Y—yeah," she answered, thankful that Jimmy had at least come up with a sufficient excuse to explain away her emotions, "I—um—sorry, it's just a shock, is all." She didn't even have to feign the slight breaking of her voice.

The Doctor's features softened into an expression of the utmost sympathy and love for her, and Rose almost had to avert her eyes as the sight of it caused a sharp stab of guilt to reverberate through her body. He softly stroked the hand still on her arm up and down the limb before allowing it to drop and entwining their fingers.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely.

"S'alright," she replied, offering him a smile that morphed into a grimace halfway through its formation. She inhaled a breath, steadying herself and, on second attempt, managed to fix him with a smile closer to the genuine article, "Let's get inside, yeah? Shareen will kill us if we let the food get cold."

…

Dinner passed uneventfully, with the Doctor, Rose, Jimmy and Shareen swapping out stories of various escapades undergone, each story getting more wild and, no doubt, exaggerated as the wine flowed.

"Seriously though," Shareen remarked at one point when everyone had filled up on firsts, seconds and thirds of tasty lasagne, "I don't understand why you don't let the Doctor help out in the kitchen more, Rose. I thought he was a dream."

This, of course, warranted the cockiest of grins from the man of the hour.

"You say that now," Rose retorted slyly, "but it only takes one time that he blows up the oven for you to realise what the smarter choice is."

The cocky grin slipped from the Doctor's face so swiftly it was funny. "Hey!" he squeaked indignantly, "I was only trying to help! You can't judge a man on one botched upgrade!"

"Yeah, sorry, don't know what I was thinking," Rose said with a fond shake of her head. "Only—" her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she ticked off on her fingers, "Blowing up the toaster, and the microwave, and the blender, and the _fridge_, wouldn't those count as 'botched upgrades' too?"

She grinned, tongue poking out, as she watched the Doctor sputter. "Reckon I might have a pretty strong case on my hands!" she announced.

"Oh my god!" Shareen exclaimed suddenly, "Was that what he was doing when he was pointing that—sonic—stick—thing at the oven earlier?!" She leaned in closer to Rose, eyes stretching wide, "How long 'til it blows?"

Rose burst out laughing, her mirth only increasing at the sight of the Doctor's affronted pout where he was sitting next to her. "I'll have you know that _that_ upgrade was perfectly successful," he grumbled. He gave a sniff, "Catch me installing self-cleaning settings out of the goodness of my hearts again…"

Still chuckling, Shareen gathered up everyone's plates and, with Jimmy intercepting halfway and taking the crockery from her ("I swear he thinks I'm an invalid," she'd groaned), they'd headed to the kitchen. When the couple came back again some five minutes later, they didn't rejoin the Doctor and Rose where they were still pleasantly chatting at the dining room table. Instead, they remained standing at the head of the table, Jimmy's arm casually flung over Shareen's shoulders and both sporting mysterious grins.

Rose looked between the two of them, eyebrows slowly drawing together. "What?" she asked.

"We've got something we want to ask the two of you," Jimmy said, and Shareen's smile widened accordingly.

Rose looked back at the Doctor, and found that he was wearing the same confused expression she was. "And that is?" he inquired.

"Well," Shareen started slowly, "Jimmy and me have been talking and we've decided that—" she glanced over at Jimmy, who gave her an encouraging nod. Her smile decreased in width, became softer and shier. "We want you to be the baby's godparents."


	48. Episode 4 Part 2

**Author's note: Yes, I know...it's been weeks since my last update. BAD author. Well, you'll be happy to know that I've not been dormant during this time, and the next string of updates will be coming your way far more rapidly!**

**Remember to review and tell me what you thought of the chapter! :)**

**...**

"So, what do you think?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor hummed distractedly, his eyes (smarty-glasses clad) locked on the words of a Quantum Mechanics textbook he'd unearthed a few days earlier at a forty-third century flea market.

Though they'd never spoken of it, the Doctor and Rose had been falling asleep together for a long time now. She'd rarely used the bed in her own bedroom in the TARDIS at all during her time with this incarnation of him, in fact. It had always been just another aspect of their oh so complicated friendship-but-never-really-just-a-friendship.

But it had only been after the bond was in place that his bed had become _their _bed. When they'd stumbled into his bedroom one night after a particularly harrowing romp, needing to be as close to each other as possible, and had found his meagre single replaced with a mighty king-sized bed, the room obligingly larger to accommodate it, it had become something of an unspoken agreement.

This was where they sat now, Rose mulling over the day's visit to Jimmy and Shareen's and the Doctor, apparently, _not_.

"They asked us to be the baby's godparents," Rose stated straightforwardly.

At this the Doctor did look up from his book, his glasses sliding down his nose a little as he did. Rose gave a small smile, leaning over and pushing the glasses back in place with her index finger. She lingered there, hovering in his personal space for a few moments, enjoying the way electricity seemed to buzz between them as she did, before returning to her original position.

"They did," the Doctor replied simply (and annoyingly).

"And we didn't give them an answer," Rose supplied.

"No, we didn't," he agreed thoughtfully.

She felt her irritation with his passive answering start to grow and promptly decided to use a slightly more aggressive approach. "So you think we should tell them no, then?"

The Doctor sighed and shut the Quantum Mechanics book, seeing through her ploy immediately. He leaned back against the bed's headboard, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "I don't know, Rose. Do you _want _to be a godparent?"

"It doesn't matter what I want!" she said, her voice coming out sharper than she'd intended. She gave an involuntary flinch and worked at lowering her shrill pitch a few octaves. "I want to know if this is something _you _want, Doctor," she said in calmer tones, "Whether you'd be able to commit to the possibility of raising a—a child one day."

At this he sat upright, turning to study her face and sitting like that quietly for a long while before opening his mouth to speak again. Rose, accustomed to this behaviour, waited the period out patiently. "Where's all this coming from now?" he asked her quietly. Rose couldn't decide whether the slightly hurt undertone in his voice was just her imagination or not.

"I dunno," she said, feeling the urge to move her eyes from his face but ignoring the self-conscious impulse, "Me and Shareen were just talking today, and—"

"Bit early for baby fever, isn't it?" he interrupted her, and Rose knew that the patronising tone she detected in his voice was anything but her imagination.

The tone caused her to bristle. "Look, it's not as though I've suddenly decided I want the whole nine yards with a marriage and—and kids and a house and everything—"

"Oh, it's not? 'Cause we've jumped from the possibility of being godparents to the possibility of being _actual _parents awfully quickly."

She took a breath, forcing the steadily-becoming-fuming emotions down. "No, it's not. I just want to know whether you'd _want_—"

"Isn't this enough for you, then?" he asked her, his voice dipping even lower, "You and me, all the travelling—you've gotten so much out of me already, Rose. Now you want even more?"

"No, of course this is enough! I just want to know—"

"What, Rose? What more should I give you? You already have my hearts, my mind, my body, my soul— what else do you want from me?"

"Doctor, I just want to _know_—"

"If a human life is what you're looking for, Rose, you're barking up the wrong tree. I told you from the start that that's never gonna be something I'll be able to give you."

The dam keeping her anger at the insufferable Time Lord at bay suddenly burst apart, flowing free in all its glory.

"For the last time, I don't want a bloody human life! I just want to know whether we're a dead end or not!" she shouted at him.

She regretted the words the instance they left her mouth. If it was even possible, the regret doubled when she took in the expression the Doctor bore in reaction to the words. The pain was so clear on his boyish features for a millisecond, and then his face settled in that mask of careful blankness that scared her above all else. A sudden quiet reigned, and it took Rose another second to realise that the absence of sound was owing to the Doctor having blocked off the link between their minds completely. Something he hadn't done since the first day they'd formed the link.

He got up without so much as a word to her, moving forward and pulling on his pinstriped trousers and an oxford. He paused with his hand on the handle of their bedroom door. "I'll be in the console room," he said shortly.

Then he exited the room. He closed the door behind him with a quiet _click_, but it might as well have been a _bang!_ to Rose's ears.

…

Stupid, _stupid _Time Lord.

The Doctor put down his spanner and slid out from under the console. Having stared at the same loose bolt for roughly around a half hour, he realised that he had neither the intention nor the patience to deal with TARDIS repairs at the moment. Nor the focus, as a matter of fact, as the entirety of his great, big mind was at the moment preoccupied with the hurt look that he'd left on Rose's face when he'd stormed out of their bedroom earlier.

He _had _been justified in getting upset with her though, hadn't he?

He'd told her from the very start that being human wasn't something he could do. He _wasn't _human, simple as that. No matter how much he sometimes wanted to be. No matter how much he sometimes wanted exactly what Rose—

The point was that he couldn't, wouldn't and shouldn't have any of that. Even when a life somewhat like that had existed for him—albeit devoid of any kind of true affection towards his wife or from any of his children save his granddaughter Susan—he'd been horrible at it. He'd let every, single one of them down in the end. Let the whole of his world, his people down.

And if something like _that _ever happened in a situation where he would be letting _Rose _down, where he'd be losing a life that he and Rose had built together, losing the children that, he knew without a doubt, he'd cherish with all of his hearts—

It would completely destroy him.

He sat up and, as he did, felt a hard shove to his mind.

_Ow! _He exclaimed, looking up angrily at the console, _what the hell was that for?!_

_She just wants you to be happy, _the TARDIS told him seriously.

_But I __**am **__happy_, he protested. _That's exactly my point. Why does she have to go and look for more from me when everything's exactly right now?_

The TARDIS gave an undeniably frustrated huff.

_Because you are capable of so much more_, she told him cryptically.

The Doctor frowned up at the ceiling, wondering at what his omnipresent ship was on about again now, only removing his eyes from the arching coral above his head when he heard Rose's characteristically soft footfalls nearing him.

Rose's face was penitent as she strode into the room. She didn't stop until she'd reached the grating, made her away over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder and not saying anything for a long time.

In response, a reflex response these days, the Doctor's long arms wrapped around her and he rested his cheek on top of her soft, blonde crown. He inhaled the scent of flowers, honey and _Rose _that always lingered around her and felt as his hearts beat just a little more calmly.

"I'm sorry," Rose finally murmured against him.

And just like that, the Doctor's resolve that she'd been in the wrong shattered in one fell swoop. He pulled back far enough to look at her face, noticing the slightly red and swollen state of her eyes.

Damn. He'd made her cry again.

"No, Rose," he said with a sigh, and as he did, every excuse he'd given for remaining angry with her seemed to swing around and reveal how much of a prat he was really being. "You've got every right to think those things," he told her earnestly, the small bout of surprise he felt flare in her demeanour only elevating his own guilt at making her react that way towards his acceptance, "And it was completely wrong of me to say otherwise. Especially since I was the one who trapped you in this situation in the first—"

"_Trapped_?" her forehead furrowed, "You haven't _trapped _me in anything."

"Yes," he replied simply, no trace of amusement or even bitterness in his level tone, "You're stuck for the rest of your life with someone who's not only damaged beyond repair, but also a complete dead end."

The thing that disturbed her most was the matter-of-fact way in which he said it. Not as something he meant to be self-depreciating, not as a way to make her feel guilty; he said it as though this was just another facet of himself that he'd accepted a long time ago.

"Don't," she shook her head, frowning deeply, "Don't ever call yourself that."

He answered so softly that Rose couldn't be sure if she'd even heard him correctly.

"You did."

Before she even had a chance to respond to _that,_ though,he was continuing on in louder tones, "And you were right. Still doesn't give me any right to dictate the things you want in life."

This warranted a look from Rose that said, in the loudest way dead silence could, that he had completely missed the point of her apology. "That's just—" she closed her mouth and gazed at him with pure incredulity set on her face, "That's just—_completely_ wrong."

His gaze had fallen to his shoes, and Rose knew that this conversation would only last for a small window of time longer. Their new and improved relationship hadn't deterred the Doctor from attempting a quick getaway the moment a situation got uncomfortable for him, after all. She leaned down slightly, catching his eye again.

"What I want out of life is _you, _Doctor," she told him, "You. Get it? And, yeah, maybe I'll want to settle down someday. Maybe I'll want babies and all those things, but—if that's not something you can give me, then it's fine. 'Cause I would never, in a million years, give up being with you for that. Never ever."

"Never say never ever," the Doctor murmured, and for some reason the words, echoing back from their recent trip to the Olympics, caused a shiver to run up her spine.

Then Rose caught a small flash of the vulnerability that the Time Lord only ever revealed to her. "You called us a dead end," he said in a low voice.

She blew out a breath. "I know, and I'm sorry. We're not," she tried a small smile, attempting to make a little light of the situation, "We're the exciting theme park you drive hours to get to."

His lips didn't so much as twitch. "I think I'm gonna go sit in the lab for a bit," he said, already starting to head off, "I'll come to bed later."

"Alright," she nodded. The fact that he was coming back to bed at all was a victory under the circumstances. She would take what she could get.

Rose watched him walk away, seeing also as he stopped in his tracks just before passing over into the TARDIS corridor. He didn't turn around. "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll think about it."

"What?"

"Shareen's offer."

With that he disappeared, leaving a stunned Rose staring after him.


	49. Episode 4 Part 3

As the following day broke, the Doctor was, miraculously, his normal bundle of energy again. He'd swept Rose out of bed practically at the break of dawn (or 07:30, as other people would call it) and had proceeded to chase her into the shower (not joining, to her disappointment), throwing her with a fresh pair of denims, a t-shirt and her underwear as she'd exited the bathroom in her towel.

As they'd headed off to the console room ("No boring TARDIS breakfast for us today!" he'd announced), Rose had quietly contemplated bringing up the previous evening's conversation again, something that would inevitably, of course, ruin the Doctor's tenuous good mood. She finally decided to bring it up later, though. They could deal with real life when the day's adventure was over.

The TARDIS landed with a thud, and Rose felt the familiar bout of excitement run through her as it always did when the Doctor took her to a new destination. "Where are we, then?" she asked when the Doctor leaned around the console and grinned at her.

"Take a look and see," he told her mysteriously, nodding towards the TARDIS door.

She gave a giggly little squeak, practically hopping towards the exit. Hearing the Doctor chuckle behind her, she enjoyed the sound of his laughter for a moment before opening the door…

…affording her a spectacular view of an oncoming freight train.

Her eyes widened for only a second before she was slamming the door closed again with such force that the TARDIS complained into her mind. With a mental _sorry _sent to the ship, Rose swung around and, pressing her back to the door, looked over to where the Doctor was already furiously working away at the console.

"Whoops!" he babbled hurriedly as he dashed about, "Must've gotten our trajectory a bit wrong, threw us on top of the rail track instead of the field next to it!"

"Gee, ya think?!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him, "What can I do?"

"Activate the transcendental stabiliser!"

"Right," Rose muttered, looking over the button-, knob- and dial-laden console board in dismay, "Transcendental stabiliser…"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, simultaneously throwing her a mental image of the knob to her left. "Transcendental stabiliser, " he announced, sounding as though he were talking to a toddler, "I showed you that one last week, remember?"

"Yeah, I don't think that 'not that one, the one on your right, no your other right! Oh, just let me do it' counts as showing me the knob," she complained as she twisted said knob and felt the TARDIS steady the slightest bit beneath them.

Finally, the groan of the ship signalling her dematerialisation sequence rang through the console room. For a few seconds, the Doctor and Rose were thrown about the room by the ship's increasingly violent turbulence, until the ship eventually stopped with its most severe jolt yet, knocking the Doctor's breath clean out of him as he was flung against the railing and causing Rose's head to crack painfully against the grating on the console room floor.

"Rose?" the Doctor called in-between gulping breaths as he slowly lifted his head, "You alright?"

"Yeah," she answered after a moment. She sat up, rubbing the back of her head, "Ow."

The Doctor, recovering quickly, sprang up from his crumpled-up position, bounding over to Rose and helping her to her feet. He gave her a quick once-over as he did so, clearly not trusting her assessment of her own health.

"Odd," the Doctor remarked thoughtfully, looking around the room of his now-dormant ship, "She flew just fine through the Vortex to here, but when I tried to move her she started fighting me. Like she didn't want to land."

Rose followed the Doctor's gaze uneasily, feeling an ominous sense of déjà vu steal over her. "Like—like Krop Tor?"

He met her eyes, a hint of worry clouding his. "You wanna leave?"

Rose remained quiet for a good while at that. It was the best option, considering their past experiences with TARDIS failure. The smart option, really.

But then again…

"No," she said.

The Doctor nodded, taking her hand in his and pulling her along towards the door. "Good. Me neither."

They exited onto a field, the rail track next to it now devoid of the train that had almost blown straight into the TARDIS. Rose gave a little shudder. Then she took a look around, taking in her beatific, if somewhat underwhelming, surroundings.

"Looks like the English countryside," she remarked, watching as the sunlight spurred the grass and greenery around her to reveal their brightest shade, the blue of the cloudless sky seeming dizzying in its height. "Or the English countryside on a really, really good day, at least."

"_Looks _like the English countryside, but isn't," the Doctor said, swiftly snapping into lecture-mode. He bounded forward a few steps, just enough to take up some of the view in Rose's direct line of sight, and threw his hands out expansively, "_This_, Rose Tyler, is Mandecera 6 in the year 35.674, 'round about—oh, I'd say—" he pulled at his ear briefly, "Thirty-three thousand years into your future? Yeah, that's about it. It's a human colony made to look, smell and probably taste exactly like the good old UK. Although—" he bent down, picking a blade of grass and, much to Rose's dismay, popping it into his mouth, "It doesn't taste _quite _like the original Kingdom. Too sweet. Earth's version's just a bit—tangier. Probably owing to all those toxins in the soil."

As he took her hand again and started leading her along to who knew where, Rose threw another glance at the scenery. "Thought we had enough of the English countryside after that visit to my Nan's in Oxfordshire," she teased.

The Doctor actually gave a visible shudder at this. "Oh, _please _don't remind me."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"Easy for you to say! It wasn't your first visit!"

"Nan loved you!"

"Yes. Yes, she did. _Loved _being the operative word, of course."

Rose snickered. "Oh, come off it!"

"You saw it, Rose! It happened right in front of you! She—she _fondled _me and all you did was stand there and laugh!"

Even the memory of the poor Doctor's helpless face caused Rose to burst into a fit of giggles afresh. "She did not _fondle_ you!" she managed amidst the laughter.

"She pinched my bum!"

"It was just a little goodbye-pinch," Rose told him with a glint in her eye. "And besides," she flashed him a flirty grin, "It is a _very _nice bum."

With that comment the indignity on the Doctor's face didn't stand a chance. In fact, it only held a second longer before melting away, replaced by a little, self-satisfied smile. "It is, isn't it?"

The Doctor led Rose across the field and down a dirt path, pointing out especially beautiful parts of scenery all the way. Eventually, the trees and hills around them became moss-covered farmhouses, and sooner rather than later the crunch of gravel beneath their feet signalled their arrival in a small, picturesque town.

Rose looked around with a contented smile on her face, the out-of-place familiarity of their destination reminding her of childhood visits to her Nan's when her mum had saved up enough cash for two train tickets out of the city. She was just about to ask the Doctor why on earth, or as it were, Mandecera 6, he'd taken her to such a distinctly normal place, when he pulled her to an abrupt stop.

Rose followed his gaze to the small building he was smiling up at with an irrational amount of excitement.

"'Tim's Coffee?'" she read the sign mounted above her head sceptically, "What's so special about the village coffeehouse?"

"Not just a coffeehouse, Rose Tyler," he retorted excitedly, beaming down at her, "You're looking at the home of— wait for it— _the best milkshake in the universe!_"

Rose gave a snort. Of course it was. "That an official title?"

The Doctor sniffed. "Last of the Time Lords, me, I think that makes it official enough."

She shook her head at him, a fond smile on her face. Then she linked her arm with his. "Well, come on, then. Let's go try this supposed 'best milkshake in the universe'."

"Oh, it is," he said with certainty.

The smile became cheeky. "I'll be the judge of that."

…

The milkshake _was _pretty good, she had to admit. The Doctor had insisted on Rose ordering a very specific flavour, namely the _Blargon _(not a very appetising name, but she'd humoured him), and after getting the drink, had charmingly been assured by the famous Tim that, for her, the milkshake was on the house.

The Doctor had been shooting Oncoming-Storm glares at poor Tim ever since.

Rose took another sip of her drink— banana and marmalade flavour, as it turned out; she should have known— watching as the Doctor eyed the contents of her glass impatiently, having neatly finished his respective two glasses a good while ago.

She suppressed the urge to giggle at him; he was probably going to explode if she didn't tell him what she thought of the milkshake soon. She drained the last contents of her glass, deciding to put him out of his misery.

"And…?" he asked expectantly.

"It's—" she smacked her lips for a second, pretending to look for the right words. Just as she saw worry creeping onto his features, she gave him a tongue-touched grin, "It's brilliant."

So was his answering beam. "I knew you'd like it," he announced, clearly very pleased with his acute Rose-perception skills. "Hold on, I'll order us two more. Tim—"

He'd stuck up his hand to signal the man, but the hand faltered and dropped back onto the table as he apparently caught sight of something completely different. He stared off into a space for a long while, his eyes growing wider as more time dragged on.

"Doctor?" Rose asked when she couldn't take it any longer. She tried to lean towards him to see what it was that he'd caught sight of, but she couldn't make out anything out of the ordinary in his line of sight. "Something wrong?"

She listened in to his thoughts, hoping that this would offer some clarity, but all she found was an endless stream of numbers running through his mind at a lightning-fast pace. He was trying to figure something out, and it was taking him longer than usual to do it.

Oh, yes. Something was very, very wrong.

So quickly that he caused Rose to give a startled jolt, the Doctor flew up from his seat, rapidly pulling her from hers as well. He then started bundling the both of them towards the exit in manic fashion, offering only a string of hurried near-gibberish as an explanation.

"When I moved the TARDIS I didn't bother to check that we were still on course," he jabbered, "It was such a short jump, why would it matter? The TARDIS not wanting to land should've been the first warning, but _of course_ I was being _stupid _and _thick_. Stupid, thick Time Lord."

"So where are we that we're not supposed to be, then?" Rose asked, shooting an apologetic look Tim's way as the Doctor pushed the shop door open without so much as a thought towards his compensation.

The Doctor looked back at her over his shoulder and managed to look impressed with her even in his harassed state. "Good job figuring that out," he complimented, "But it's not _where, _it's _when _that we're not supposed to be. I saw the date onsome bloke's newspaper back there. It's not 35.674, it's 35.680. 15 April 35.680, to be exact. It's the day that—"

But any further elaboration on the date was abruptly drowned out by the sound of the tranquillity of the small town being disturbed by a monumental bang. Behind them, Tim's Coffee exploded into a thousand pieces, and the Doctor and Rose were flung through the air with the cascading debris.


	50. Episode 4 Part 4

The next thing the Doctor knew, everything around him had gone disjointed. He could _see _the chaos around him, see pain and fire and ash, but in his ears all that he could hear was an annoying, high-pitched ringing. And his hand was empty.

_His hand was empty._

And just like that, he'd snapped back to reality. His ears revealed the most horrible sounds, and were it any other situation, he knew that the sounds would have called up the breathless memories of the war. But as the case was, all he could focus on was a little, waning spark in his mind, signalling that his mate was in trouble. He scanned over the carnage in front of him, not allowing any of the destruction to touch him until he found what he was searching for.

When he did, his hearts jumped up into his throat.

"Rose!" he ran over to the pile of debris covering most of her torso, frantically digging through the mixture of concrete, dust and rock.

As he unearthed her, he came across the sight that sent him into a full-blown panic: her leg was being crushed by a massive piece of concrete. Even as he used his superior strength to lift the obstruction off of her, he dreaded what the devastating effects of the blow to her body would cause. The debris had no doubt crushed her leg, and even if he managed to get her into the TARDIS med bay to treat her, she'd be off her feet for weeks. Not to mention the months of physical therapy to get her up and running with him again after…

But even as he thought up various worst-case scenarios, he felt the familiar burst of energy in his mind that came with Rose's unusual healing process kicking in. The excess artron in her system still made him wholly uneasy, but he couldn't deny the unimaginable relief that he felt that she would be alright.

As she opened her eyes, they revealed the last traces of an eerie, golden glow that caused the hair on the Doctor's neck to stand on end.

"Doctor?" she inquired, searching his face blearily. Her dust-covered face contorted painfully and in a brief moment of worry the Doctor wondered if something may have gone wrong with the healing process this go around. "Oh god, I can't hear anything."

He nodded in understanding, and motioned for her to sit up, which she did.

_We were very close to the blast zone, _he explained into her mind, _the loudness would have caused some temporary deafness. The artron should heal you of that in a mo._

The frown didn't let up from her face, though, and the next moment Rose had reached out to softly touch his forehead. For the first time, the Doctor detected a stinging presence there.

_You're bleeding, _she informed him concernedly. _A lot. Maybe we should get you to the TARDIS med bay._

_Nah it's fine, _he waved her off, _the artron will kick in in a sec._

_Handy that,_ she remarked.

_I'll say, _he answered, feeling thankful for the properties of artron for a completely different reason.

_Oh, wait. I think my hearing's coming back_, she said, and another small, golden flash was just about visible in her eyes. The Doctor decided not to comment on it.

He watched the horror on Rose's face increase as her hearing did, feeling her climbing distress when she looked around her and seemed to come to grips with the carnage surrounding them. "Oh my god," she gasped, shooting upright and instantly starting to dig through the pile of debris nearest to her. "Oh god, we need to help these people!" she exclaimed.

"Rose," the Doctor stilled her digging hands with his, imploring her with sad eyes, "We can't help. We shouldn't."

She looked at him as though he'd gone mad. "Of course we should!"

"No," he told her, his expression pleading, "I'm sorry, Rose, but these events are fixed. We can't save anyone."

The effect of his words was exactly what he'd expected it to be. Her face fell, her eyes taking on the familiar sheen which he hated. She opened her mouth, and at first no sound came out. When she appeared to find her voice again in a few seconds, it was to utter one single, heartbreaking word.

"Why?"

Despite their precarious position, the Doctor pulled her into his arms."It's all my fault," he told her softly, "Mandecera 6 may be beautiful, but for the first few thousand years of its existence it was also a world steeped in slavery and fascist regimes. It changed for the better eventually, of course, but not before sixteen long years of revolution. Sixteen years where every, single life lost furthered the cause."

"And—and all that started today?" she asked shakily.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"So—" she looked around her, torn.

"So there's nothing we can do," he said gently, giving her a tight squeeze.

He started to get up, pulling her with him, ready to take her away from another adventure that had proved traumatic. As they picked their way through the scattered wreckage, avoided the helpless cries of those injured (Rose's stifled sobs mingling with the noises of suffering), the Doctor led the way out of the now irrevocably altered little town and back to where they'd parked the TARDIS.

They only managed a few steps towards this destination, however, when Rose dug her heels into the ground, coming to a rather unceremonious stop.

"Rose," the Doctor implored, already trying to manoeuvre her towards their original trajectory, "Come on, we've got to get going."

She stood fast and, catching the Doctor off-guard, had suddenly set off running back towards the site of the explosion.

"Rose!" the Doctor called in dismay, swiftly jogging after her.

In his mind, the image of her running forward to save her supposed-to-be-dead father way back kept recurring. It seemed that they were heading down an alarmingly similar path ended in paradox at the moment.

Not that he was really one to talk about _that…_

He reached her to find Rose crouched in front of a small, impromptu shelter, constructed from a hodgepodge of scrap from the explosion. She was speaking to someone, but whoever it was was blocked out by a view of her back.

"—your name, love?" the Doctor caught wind of her conversation as he neared, "You can come out now, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Rose, we have to go," he told her in a low voice, crouching down beside her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

She didn't seem to have heard him. "Come on, sweetheart," she called, holding out her hand towards the hidey-hole, "We're friends. You can trust us."

A while passed in silence, and the Doctor didn't know whether Rose simply didn't notice or was flatly ignoring the disapproval he was both conveying in state and mind towards her. Then, ever so slowly, a tiny hand appeared from the shelter, taking Rose's. In response, Rose gave a very near blinding smile.

"That's it," she encouraged the hand's owner, "There we go!"

The next thing the Doctor knew, a small figure had jumped from the shelter, smashing straight into Rose. He was about to pull her away for fear for her safety, but hesitated when the image before him truly registered shortly after.

Wrapped in Rose's arms, was a small, filthy child.

The boy couldn't have been more than three or four years old. With a shock of platinum hair, he trembled against Rose, his frightened face a mess of grey dust save for two sapphires that marked the child's startlingly blue eyes.

"It's alright," Rose soothed the frightened boy, clutching him tightly to her chest, "Everything's gonna be alright."

"Rose," the Doctor tried once more, attempting to keep his voice infused with as much compassion as possible even as a cold feeling settled in his stomach, "We have to go."

And then Rose _did _notice, turning to look at him with a rare degree of Tyler-ire that not even Jackie would have been able to match. "We are _not _leaving him here," she told him adamantly.

"Rose—"

"What's your name, love?" she turned back to the boy in her arms. Evidently, she'd decided that _that_ conversation was done and dusted. The Doctor huffed frustratedly at her, but Rose didn't so much as glance back at him.

The boy's eyes alternated between darting around frantically and staring wide-eyed at Rose's face. He gave a small, emotional hiccough, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. "Hawwy," he told her softly.

"Howie?" Rose asked uncertainly.

"No," the child shook his head vigorously, his lower lip jutting out slightly, "_Hawwy_."

"Harry," the Doctor murmured behind them, a faraway look suddenly having taken up residence in his eyes, "Nice name, that."

"Harry?" Rose repeated, "That's your name?"

Harry nodded, giving a sniff. "Yeah. Where's Susie?"

Rose's stomach dropped. "Who's Susie, love?" she asked quietly. She'd never done this, she briefly realised. She'd never, in all of her travelling, had to deal with telling a child that he'd lost someone. How did one even go about doing that? Especially with one so young…

"_Susie_," the child emphasised, as though Rose was meant to know exactly who it was, "Where's Susie? I want Susie!"

Rose looked around at their ruined surroundings in dismay, willing herself to spot someone, _anyone_ who could possibly be construed as this Susie. Her eyes pricked as she did this; everything was just such a mess. There were just too many—

"Harry," the Doctor spoke to the child gently. He leaned in closer, and Rose felt a supportive arm wrap around her shoulders. She quietly thanked any deities that existed for the Doctor's presence in her life. "Who's Susie? Is she your sister? Aunt? Mum, maybe?"

"No," the distraught child shook his head again, by this time crying in earnest, "Susie's my fwiend! I want Susie _now_!"

"God," Rose murmured, trying her best to stifle her own emotions in the face of the devastated child and quickly failing. So as not to upset Harry (and her) further, she spoke into the Doctor's mind rather than out loud.

_Doctor, this Susie, is she__—_

_I don't know, _he replied, and Rose turned to him to see his jaw set and his eyes scanning their surrounding area with characteristic intent, _possibly._

A fleeting bout of grief and pity for Harry rolled over her. She looked down at the crying child, her grip on him tightening slightly. _So what do we do, then? _She asked him helplessly.

He met her eyes, pleading with her to understand. They _had _to, after all. This was what the universe was at the end of the day: cruel beyond reason. Oh, it was beautiful at times, had the ability to bring one the greatest of joys, but it was also _this_. A child losing everything he knew in one senseless act of violence, people who were meant to protect said child forced to abandon him, crying and afraid—

However difficult it was to accept, this was one of those moments. One of those moments in which they would just have to let the universe take its course.

Rose's eyes widened disbelievingly as she read the gist of his thoughts. She shook her head at him slowly, and the Doctor felt cold shock running through her. Then, in a flash, the chill heated; became a strong stream of anger and passion.

_If you're suggesting that we __**run away**__… _she intoned dangerously.

_It's not __**running away**__, _he stated defensively, _it's us not meddling in a situation that the universe clearly intended to have happen as it did._

_Oh, alright, _Rose said sarcastically, _so what you're saying is that it's okay to meddle with the universe when it's, say, __**me**__ who's the one that was meant to die, but not when it's a little kid that neither of us have any tie to?!_

That had been a low blow, and even Rose knew it.

The Doctor flinched, but quickly his face settled in a steely mask of darkness. _You know that was an entirely different situation, Rose._

"Was it really?" Rose murmured aloud, equally as darkly. The Doctor had no idea how big a mistake meddling with her particular timeline had really been. She ignored the Doctor's asking expression at her murmured words, getting up with Harry in her arms. "Well, if not meddling with this universal 'plan' constitutes leaving Harry defenceless in a place like this, then I'm not having any of it."

She marched off in the direction of the TARDIS.

The Doctor watched her leave, annoyed, for a moment, before sighing and trudging after her as he would always do.


	51. Episode 4 Part 5

"There we go!" Rose said kindly as she fitted the tiny t-shirt (supplied by the TARDIS) on Harry. The little boy looked brand new; outfitted in clean clothes and his fair face now devoid of signs of his previous traumatic experience save for the faded tear tracks on his cheeks, "Feeling better now?"

Harry looked down at his shirt and pulled at the fabric, studying it intently. "Soft," he finally announced, giving a nod that Rose took as approval.

"Glad you like it," she grinned. She took his small hand in hers, "Come on, let's go find—"

It seemed that there was no need, though. As she turned around, she found the Doctor leaning casually against the doorframe to their en suite where Rose had been cleaning Harry up. He arched an eyebrow at her, to which she pulled a face in return.

"Yes, Doctor?" she asked sweetly when he didn't appear inclined to be vocal.

"We need to talk," he told her.

"Of course we do," she muttered. She turned back to Harry, smile holding. "Hey Harry," she said, glancing at the Doctor conspiratorially. To her delight, she saw curiosity glint in the little boy's eyes. "You know," she continued, "This ship of the Doctor's isn't just any old ship. It's a _magic_ ship."

She heard a quiet scoff from the point where the Doctor stood just as she watched Harry's eyes widen.

_A magic ship, _the Doctor whinged in her mind, _really?_

_Oh, hush up, you,_ she told him, focusing back on Harry.

"Yup, you heard right," she addressed the child again, "And what makes this ship so magical is that it goes on forever—any room you can think of, just name it—you'll find it right here on the good old TARDIS."

Harry stared at her in amazement and Rose, recognising a familiar adventurous spirit in him, knew that he would only need one more small push to set off his exploratory sense. "Wanna see?" she asked him, waggling her eyebrows.

The little boy hesitated for only a moment before swallowing and nodding slowly. Rose inclined her head towards the door. "It's all waiting out there, Harry. Go take a look!"

Harry looked a little startled by this, toeing his first step towards the exit with some apprehension.

"Go on," Rose encouraged him, "We won't be far, I promise. The minute you start to feel scared or lonely, the TARDIS'll show you the way back to us."

This was all that Harry needed. The boy, making a happy sound, briefly attacked Rose with a hug and then disappeared from the room.

_Please keep him safe_, Rose asked the TARDIS.

_Of course I will, _the TARDIS reassured her, and Rose felt a pleasant buzz in the TARDIS's presence caused by the ship's delight at having a child on board. She had a fleeting thought as to how long ago something like that had even last occurred.

"You sure that's a good idea?" the Doctor asked her doubtfully, scratching at the back of his neck, "The TARDIS isn't exactly toddler-friendly."

"She seems to cope with _you _fine," Rose answered with a teasing smile. Reading the tension between them, however, she quickly dropped the pleasantries, "What did you want to talk about?"

She knew exactly what he was going to tell her, of course, but that wasn't how the game worked.

"You know he can't stay, Rose," he said, swinging upright from his leaning stance and eyeing her levelly.

She fiddled with her nails. "Never said he should."

"No, you didn't say," he agreed, "You didn't _say, _but we both know you _thought. _Not even counting the bond, I'd know that look in your eye anywhere."

She remained perfectly oblivious. "What _look_?" she asked incredulously.

"'Oh, Doctor,'" he said in a high-pitched voice, "'Look at this poor, defenceless dangerous alien/ paradox epicentre/ pretty boy bent on destruction! We _have _to help it and then invite it to come live with us aboard the TARDIS! Pretty pleeeaase?" He fluttered his eyelashes at her for effect.

Rose looked at him for a pause, eyebrows shooting up high. "Is that supposed to be me?"

He sniffed. "Near enough imitation, I'd say."

"Oh, alright then!" she said, feeling her agitation grow. She put on an Estuary English accent, speaking in the Doctor's characteristically manic way, "I'm the Doctor, and if I don't have at least one pretty girl on my arm at all times I'll whither and decay! Roooose," she whined, "look at me while I'm being impressive! You know I have to have my ego stroked _at least _every five minutes or I go full-on Oncoming Tantrum!"

"Oi!" he exclaimed, his face practically screaming affront, "At least mine was realistic! Yours sounds absolutely _nothing _like me!"

"'Yours sounds absolutely _nothing _like me!'" she mimicked. She put a finger to her chin, tapping lightly, "Hmm, no—no, I reckon that was pretty dead on."

The Doctor glared at her for a moment, but eventually smiled despite himself, marvelling at how Rose was able to elicit such a response from him even when he was in the bleakest of moods. Her ability to do that really was infuriating, as it made it doubly difficult for him to stay angry with her when it was full well warranted. Rose gave him a slightly watered down version of her tongue-in-teeth smile in response, diminishing his anger even further.

"His family will be missing him by now," he said in softer tones, his hands coming to rest on her arms and his thumbs caressing the skin there lightly, "He's been here with us for a good two hours now. You've calmed him down, cleaned him up—there's no call for keeping him around here any longer."

"How do we know he's even _got _a family?" she retorted stubbornly, though with less conviction than the Doctor had expected. That was good; it meant that he was getting through to her—he hoped.

"We don't," he admitted freely, "But I reckon that we owe it to Harry to at least _try_ and findsome of his relatives, don't you think? We don't even know whether this Susie might still be alive or not."

He felt his hearts clench as he watched her shoulders sag, feeling no satisfaction in the face of having convinced her of his point.

"He's just a little boy," she murmured sadly.

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, his hands lifting to frame her face. "I know," he told her, "And he's gonna get to grow up because you saved him."

"Yeah," she breathed, clearly not mollified in the slightest by his kind words. The Doctor opened his mouth to apologise for landing her in yet another baleful situation (he seemed to be doing that a lot of late), but Rose started to pull away before he could so much as get a word out. "It's fine, Doctor," she said, anticipating what he was going to say. She swiftly ducked out from under his arm and made for the hallway, looking suspiciously like someone trying to make a quick getaway, "I'm gonna go look for Harry. The sooner we get him back the better, yeah?"

The way Rose bit the words out made it evident that it was anything _but _fine.


End file.
